


Tis a Pity He's a Whore

by xaritomene



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M, Prostitution, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaritomene/pseuds/xaritomene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on "Pretty Woman". Arthur is a rich business man - Merlin is the down-on-his-luck hooker he picks up almost by accident one night. Things Happen between them - and not just the things Arthur paid for. (written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/reel_merlin/">reel_merlin</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tis a Pity He's a Whore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reel_merlin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=reel_merlin).



Arthur was stood in the office he'd taken over for the afternoon, phone in hand, looking out at the garden party organised in his honour from the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I just hoped you'd be here, that's all," he said into the phone, "It's not a long trip."

"Arthur, it's London to New York," Sophia snapped, "It's far too long a trip for me to want to take it just so I can be with you."

"I'm your boyfriend, I thought you'd want to!"

"And I'm your girlfriend, not your – your _call girl_!" Sophia said, angrily.

"I never thought you were." Arthur said, through gritted teeth, "Look, I'm only here for a week or so, and this trip is very important to me. I'd just like it if you were here."

Despite that admission, Sophia's voice remained cold, "And yet when I want _you _here with me, it's a very different story!" She said, tersely, "To even get a message to you, I have to go through your secretary! I talk to her more than you – a _lot _ more than you – and I probably have a better time with her than with you!"

"Well, I'm sorry you feel like that," Arthur just managed to keep the slight note of petulance out of his voice – he wasn't an abandoned child anymore, after all. "I never thought asking you to come to New York would be so unpleasant for you."

"What part of 'highly sought after model with a busy schedule' made you think I'd always be available for your whims, Arthur?!" She cried.

"Well, if I'm so obviously misunderstanding you, maybe you should move out."

"Maybe I should," She agreed, all-too-quickly. "When you get back to London, we'll discuss-"

"Now is as good a time as any," he said, rather sharply.

"That's fine with me, Arthur. Goodbye." The phone went dead with an angry snap.

"Goodbye, Sophia." He said to the dial tone, and put the phone back in its cradle.

**

He went back downstairs to the party slowly, dreading what he was going to find there, but it didn't turn out to be quite as painful as he had been expecting.

"Arthur - it's so good to see you! How long has it been now?" He turned and saw the frighteningly gorgeous Morgana Fay coming towards him, and cracked an almost-genuine smile.

"Morgana." he smiled, and kissed her cheek. "I heard you got married. Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding."

She raised a tolerant eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you remembered, but not that you didn't come to the wedding." She linked her arm through his, and they strolled out into the large back garden.

"Remind me again why I still talk to you?"

"I'm very good for you." She smiled. "Now that you're in New York, you must come and meet Galahad, you'd get on. And it would be nice to catch up. We haven't seen much of each other since my father-"

"I was sorry about that." Arthur said, awkwardly. "You- he was a good man."

"Yes, he was. And he would have hated the funeral he got, so it's just as well we were both too busy to go." She said, briskly.

"You didn't go to his funeral?" Arthur said, rather shocked, despite knowing Morgana since she was a child.

"Did you go to yours?" She asked, pointedly.

"Well - no... but I hated my father! You adored yours!"

"He always said black didn't suit me," She said, firmly. "And he didn't like churches or the ridiculous hymns people sing at funerals. I organised the whole thing, and that was enough - I don't care what anyone else says. I did what everyone else wanted to happen, but I wasn't going to go to it just because they expected it of me. I went for a long walk with Galahad instead."

Arthur thought that over. "That's - nice." he nodded, finally.

"It was Dad's favourite walk." She smiled. "He'd have preferred that to the funeral, but I don't think I could have persuaded everyone to tramp over hills in funeral clothes."

"Might have been a tough sell." Arthur agreed, with a smile.

"I was sad to leave England, when Galahad got this job with the bank." She said, wistfully, "But it's a fantastic job, with accommodation, and it'll really put him on the map."

Arthur paused for a moment. "Morgana - I'm sorry, but - who _is _Galahad?"

Morgana laughed. "You idiot. Galahad Purson, my _husband_."

"Oh. He considered that for a moment. "Morgana - when we were dating..." he said, awkwardly, after a long pause. "Did you talk to my secretary more than me?"

Morgana smiled a little. "Arthur, she was one of my bridesmaids."

**

He took his leave of Morgana a few minutes later, and headed out to the car park where he'd left the limo, only to find that his car - the limo and driver he'd brought - were stuck right at the back of the group of cars. There were, he reflected, downsides to being relentlessly punctual.

"Hey!" He called over to the car park attendant. "Is there any way of getting that car out?" He pointed at the limo. The man shook his head, and Arthur swore under his breath, glancing around for some way out of his problem. "Is this Mr. Le Rousse's car?" He asked. When the man nodded, he smiled. "Give me the keys then, please." He ordered, holding out a hand. When the man hesitated, Arthur frowned, ever so slightly. "Come on, hand them over. He's my lawyer, it will be fine."

It was a testament either to Arthur's persuasive powers, or his fear tactics that the man actually handed them over, but his smooth getaway was somewhat hindered by Owain's arrival on the scene.

"Arthur - no, not my car, please not my car..." he pleaded. "Take the limo..."

"The limo's stuck back there and I've got to get back to the hotel," Arthur said, ruthlessly ignoring any protests. "You know you can get them to take you wherever you want to go when the party's over, and you'll get this car back in perfect condition tomorrow."

"Arthur, you haven't driven yourself anywhere in years, and it's a manual car! Not to mention a left hand drive!" Owain pointed out, desperately. "Please, look, just take the limo, it shouldn't take too long to get it out-"

"Long enough." Arthur said, with a smile, and put the car in gear. "Mm. Very responsive." he added, rather provocatively, he admitted, but Owain did occasionally annoy the hell out of him. "I _love _this car."

"_I _love that car, which is why I'd really rather you didn't drive it!" Owain cried, but Arthur had already gone by the time the protest was finished. "Arthur!"

**

When Merlin woke that night it was to a thumping headache and the knowledge that not only was the rent due, neither he nor Gwen had it. Gwen's job at the shop paid badly – between them they had enough to live on and make up the rent, but between unavoidable food expenses and the bribes they had to pay to keep the authorities off their backs for their over-due visas, rent money had slid down the scale a little in the last couple of weeks.

But now all the other bills were paid, Gwen wasn't being paid for another couple of weeks, and Merlin was going to be turning a lot of tricks over the next few days to make up their rent.

He poured himself into the tight skinny jeans he worked in, and yanked on one of his tight, almost see-through shirts; a belt and worn tennis shoes completed the look. Short of cross-dressing or wearing a sign, there were few ways he could make it really obvious that he was for sale, but he made up for with body language what he lacked in really _obvious _clothing. Still, he did alright.

He ran a slicked hand through his hair, mussing it to a careless bed-head look, and carefully applied mascara and liner to his eyes. The most horrible part of his now-automatic routine was the part where he had to prepare himself for the night, slicking himself open, but he knew from experience that more than half the time, illicit fucks in back alley-ways didn't give much of an opportunity to prepare himself; and he needed to be able to work, which he could hardly manage if he was raw from being fucked without the right precautions.

That done, he made sure he had some condoms shoved into one of his pockets, a couple of dollars in the other along with some odds and ends which wouldn't spoil the shape of the jeans, and headed out for the night.

He just hoped this one wasn't as grim as most of his were.

**

Loathe though he was to admit it, Arthur really wasn't one of the world's natural drivers, and the manual racing car he was driving really wasn't making things any easier for him. Not to mention, in the streets of New York as it was getting dark, it was increasingly difficult to see where he was going, and before he knew it, he was hopelessly, helplessly lost.

He cursed his way through the streets of New York, wrenching the car through the gears with little thought to how well the gear box would deal with such treatment. In all honesty, he didn't really care; it was too dark, and he wanted to be back in his hotel. He had work to be doing, dammit.

No matter how proud of the straight streets and grid system New Yorkers were, it didn't make navigating their darned city any easier, Arthur thought viciously. He wasn't entirely sure how he could go round and round in circles in a city built on a grid, but somehow he was managing it.

**

Merlin took up residence on his normal patch, one thumb hooked into his belt loop, one foot up against the wall, the classic rent-boy pose, as his mentor had told him. The same mentor who'd been put out of action by a queer bashing a couple of months ago – but Merlin couldn't have that kind of thought right now. It wasn't like he had any other options open to him.

A pimp might have provided the kind of protection he wanted, but a pimp might also try and follow him back to England, and when he left here with Gwen, he wanted to be able to just _leave_, and there were always horror stories about pimps getting rid of their 'old stock'. Merlin didn't want any complications to follow him back home. Besides, this way, he said when, he said who, and he said how much, and he got to keep all of it. This was much better.

In comparison, anyway.

Half an hour later, and he had to concede that it was going to be a slow night. He'd had a couple of interested looks, flirted with a couple of dead-ends who wanted freebies, and was starting to despair of making anything tonight when he watched as one of the most beautiful cars he'd seen edged down Old 42nd Street towards him.

It stopped a couple of feet from him, idling by the pavement. Merlin looked round, but no one else was there – none of the other hookers who worked this spot had arrived yet – but the owner of the car didn't seem to be trying to solicit him.

Well, evidently that was just because they hadn't seen him yet, and Merlin was going to put paid to that little problem.

He slunk towards the car, his mentor's voice in his head telling him '_work it, own it, come on..._' as he walked, and he leant over at the car window and licked his lips. "Hey, sugar... " he purred, his American accent flawless after years of practice, "You looking for a date?"

"No," Arthur said, still frustrated at his inability to find first gear in a left hand drive car, barely paying attention to the man at his car window, "I want to find Fifth Avenue, can you give me directions?"

For a moment, Merlin had been taken aback at hearing the familiar English accent from someone who wasn't Gwen, then he smirked a little. The Merlin he'd been when he first got here would have given directions without another thought, happy to be able to help someone. That Merlin had never been so overdue on his rent that he was in danger of having to sleep rough, though, and now, he nodded, giving the blond man the best sexy look in his arsenal. "Sure," he nodded, "For five bucks."

Arthur paused, then sat back with a rather disgusted expression on his face. "Ridiculous."

"Price just went up to ten," Merlin said lazily.

Arthur stared at him. "You can't _charge me _for directions!"

"I can do anything I want to do, baby," Merlin pointed out with a grin, "I ain't lost."

"Alright! Alright, fine!" Arthur said quickly when it looked as though Merlin was about to walk off, "You got change for twenty dollars?"

Merlin eased himself into the car, and grabbed the note, "For twenty, I'll show you personal."

"Right. So, first gear..." Merlin sat patiently while the blond man eased off into the traffic, then winced, "Oh, god, put your lights on. Lights! Lights would be good here!"

They drove in silence for a few moments, Merlin pointing out turns off in near silence, until the blond man broke it, "So I'm guessing now is not the best time to be a rent boy, is it? With all the AIDs scares and sexual diseases-"

"Look. I always use condoms, I get checked once a month at the free clinic," Merlin all but snapped it, "So not only am I _far _better in the sack than an amateur, I am probably _safer_."

Arthur chuckled. "I like that, that's good," he complimented him. "You should get it typed on your business cards."

Merlin turned away, willing himself not to flush. Who was this rich bastard, anyway? "Don't make fun of me." He said quietly.

"Sweetheart," Arthur said, rather patronisingly, "I'm paying you twenty dollars to sit in a car and point out the way to me. If I want to make fun of you, I can."

"Twenty dollars entitles you to _nothing_." Merlin flashed back, then turned back to the window.

Another few moments of silence as Merlin pointed out a left turn. "I'm sorry," Arthur apologised, "That was mean-spirited and unkind," as Merlin stared, he sighed. "It's been a long day."

Merlin swallowed. No one _ever _apologised to him. "Want me to make it a bit easier?" he offered, with a sideways grin. At this point, he was resorting to innuendo because this guy had him totally wrong-footed.

Luckily the blond just laughed. "What's your name?" he asked by way of an answer.

"What do you want it to be?" Merlin asked, absently, and chuckled as Arthur gave him a wry look in return. "Sorry. Merlin. My name's Merlin."

"Merlin," the way Arthur said his name sent a shiver down his spine, but he kept his cool. "Well, Merlin, I need the Four Seasons on Fifth Avenue, is it a long way away?"

"About a five minute drive," Arthur clunked through another gear change, "But you'll make it a twenty minute drive going like that. This is an _amazing _car you've got here, four cylinders, real goer, and you're pushing it through the gears like it's an old tractor."

Arthur shot him another amused look. "Where'd you learn about cars?"

"Friend and I used to fix them up back home," Merlin said, dismissively. "Now, look, let me show you-"

"And where is home for you?" Arthur pressed.

"What are you, a cop?" Merlin said jokingly, then paused. "Oh, god, you're not a cop are you?"

"No!" Arthur laughed, "No, I'm just a – I'm just interested."

"Oh. Well, home is – would you _stop_ mistaking your windscreen wipers for your lights?" Merlin said, by way of a diversionary tactic. It worked rather too well – Arthur pulled over to the side of the road and turned to Merlin.

"You ever driven an Aston Martin before?"

Merlin scoffed. "No."

"Well, you're about to. C'mon, swap with me."

Merlin beamed, knowing his smile was far too big and wide for good looks – but really, driving an Aston Martin was almost as good as getting to screw this guy over for some big money.

Almost.

They drove off again into the traffic, Merlin revelling in the feeling of the car, which drove nicely without Arthur clunking through the gears. "See, this car's pedals are like a race car's – really close together. So it's probably easier for a woman to drive, because – y'know – little feet. Except me. My feet are tiny. _Not _that that has anything to do with the size of my dick, because, you know, those studies are rubbish. But your feet really _are _the same size as your arm between your elbow and your wrist," he held out his arm to the blond, soft side up. "D'you know that?"

Arthur shook his head with a small smile, "No, I didn't know that."

"Just a little bit of trivia for you."

Arthur smiled, "You really are something, Merlin, aren't you?"

Merlin grinned back. "Most people wait until after they've had me to tell me that."

Another brief, more comfortable pause. "So, tell me. Out of interest... how much money _would_ entitle me to more?"

Merlin's heart leapt into his throat, but he kept his cool, pursing his lips dramatically. "Oh, I couldn't take less than two hundred dollars."

Arthur whistled gently. "Two hundred dollars?" Merlin nodded, "I had no idea you people made such good money. Two hundred dollars a night?"

"An hour," Merlin corrected him.

"An _hour_?! You're joking."

"I never joke about money."

"Funny," Arthur said quietly, "Neither do I." He paused. "Well, two hundred dollars an hour – that's stiff."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Merlin reached across and palmed Arthur through his trousers. "Well... no." He said, with a mischievous sideways look, "But it's got potential."

**

The rest of the drive to the Four Seasons was mostly silent, until they drew up outside the hotel itself, the large bay in front – for arriving guests – empty except for them. Arthur waved away the parking valet and turned to Merlin, pausing for a second before saying,

"You'll be alright getting back?"

The look in the boy's eyes was almost soft, despite the tinge of amusement Arthur also couldn't help but see lurking around those full lips. "Yeah," he smiled, his voice also rather soft, still with that accent that Arthur couldn't quite place. "I'll, er – I'll just call me a cab with my twenty bucks."

"Back to your office, huh?"

Merlin paused, then laughed. "Yeah, my office."

They sat in silence for another second or two. "So – did you really say two hundred dollars?"

The hooker shrugged. "Yeah, well... what can I say? I'm one of the best."

"Right. Of course you are." Arthur nodded. He hesitated again for the briefest moment, then said slowly, "Well... if you don't have any prior engagements, I'd, er... I'd be very pleased if you would accompany me into the hotel?"

Merlin grinned. "You got it."

He slid out of the car with feline grace – and the way he walked, a tiny conscious sway to his hips, had the Arthur thinking he'd definitely made the right decision here. "Coming?" The man asked, and Arthur nodded, quickly, following him out of the car and handing the keys to a valet.

Catching up with Merlin just before the door of the hotel, Arthur shrugged his trench coat off and handed it to him, meeting his eyes squarely.

"Just a precaution," he said, keeping his voice low and inoffensive, "This is not the kind of place that rents rooms by the hour, and I'd prefer it if you didn't give any of the other guests heart attacks."

"Right," Merlin breathed, "OK, then." He kept his more rebellious reply to himself - he couldn't afford to lose this job – and followed Arthur into the hotel.

Arthur was used to it all, but for Merlin, the hotel lobby was amazing, all marble and brass, comfortable leather chairs and beautiful flower arrangements. An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror covered one wall, and as he caught sight of himself in the glass, he was suddenly glad for Arthur's trench coat – even if it was far too large for him. He stared around, leaning against one of the pillars, unconsciously provocative while Arthur talked to the receptionist – "Good evening, Mr. Pendragon. Yes, the Ty Warner suite is ready for you," – accepting a long fax and a couple of telephone messages.

"Oh, and – send some champagne and strawberries up to my suite, would you?" he asked absently, already turning away.

"Of course, Mr. Pendragon."

**

Merlin's eyes went wide when Arthur steered him away from the normal lifts in the lobby towards a separate one placed in one corner, operated by a bellboy in an uncomfortably stiff uniform who gave Merlin an uncomfortably know smile.

But if the lobby and the private lift had impressed him, the suite itself actually awed him, and he was silent for a good couple of minutes while he stared round it.

"So – you have _all _this to yourself?" he said, staring around the enormous sitting room, chic and discreetly luxurious, quietly overwhelming in its own way.

"Just me," Arthur agreed, heading through the sitting room without a sideways glance and entering the office, where he had his laptop and could deal with the fax and his messages. Merlin followed behind him slowly, pausing to stare at every second thing in the room.

"Wow..." he breathed, letting his accent slip for just a moment. It wasn't like Arthur would hear him.

The office was equally impressive, though again Arthur barely noticed the luxury, placing his paperwork on the desk and booting up his computer.

Merlin perched on the desk next to him. "OK, so this place is huge," he said conversationally. "And – it's just you, all the time. So... why d'you need all this?"

Arthur shrugged. "Because it's the best," he said simply.

"Right, of course." Merlin smiled. "Well – wait, why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're on my fax."

He paused. "Well that's one I haven't been on before," he drawled.

"Cute." Arthur applauded wryly.

Merlin chuckled, leaning to one side to Arthur had to reach under him to his precious fax. That done, he started kicking his heels against the priceless mahogany desk. "Look," he spoke up finally, "I'm sure you're busy, but I'm working on a pretty tight schedule at the moment, too, so I'd rather just get on with it, if you don't mind." Arthur frowned, but leant back in his chair; Merlin took this as approval enough. "Right, OK, so," he reached into one pocket, "Condoms. I'm all out of blue, but I've got red, green, purple and yellow, and one last gold coin condom, the condom of champions, _nothing _is getting through this sucker."

"A buffet of safety," Arthur said, rather taken aback, managing to keep his tone sarcastic rather than shocked.

"Well," Merlin shrugged, "I'm a safety boy."

"OK, well-"

"Right, let's get this thing on you," Merlin reached towards his trousers, but Arthur grabbed his wrists quickly,

"No! I – look, can we just... I don't know, talk?"

"Talk." Merlin said, doubtfully.

"Yeah, talk! Just – talk. Warm up a bit."

"...OK then..."

Arthur stood, leaving his desk and heading back to the sitting room. Merlin followed him yet again.

"So, Arthur," he said, voice slipping into the bored sing-song traditionally used for the most prosaic of 'getting-to-know-you' questions, "are you here on business or pleasure?"

"Business. I think."

"Business you think," behind Arthur's back, Merlin's eyes rolled. Was a straight answer really so much to ask? "Well, let me guess what it is you do, then. That would make you... a member of the British royal family?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "No! Why would you say that?"

"They're probably the only people who would describe what they do as business." Merlin shrugged, with an answering grin. "OK, so not a prince," he paused, tilting his head artfully. "Are you... a lawyer?"

"Why lawyer?"

"You've got that," he snapped his fingers, searching for the right words, "Sharp useless look about you."

Another laugh. "Guess again."

"Alright," Merlin grinned again, getting into it, "You're the Bruce Wayne type – rich and useless by day, fearsome vigilante by night. Defending the weak and helpless. Chivalry for the modern age."

Arthur's own smile was in his eyes – somehow, Merlin had teased him out of his work mindset and Arthur had no idea how. "I wouldn't have taken you for a Batman fan."

Merlin shrugged. "Hey, even whores have childhoods."

Arthur was about to reply when the phone rang – they both stood abruptly, and Merlin looked at the thing as though it was a snake while Arthur answered it.

"Hallo? ...oh, yes, good. Send it up," he replaced the handset. "Room service." He explained.

"Oh! Oh, OK. Well, I'll just, er... go and meet them. Make myself useful."

When the lift opened, Merlin greeted the bellhop with a wide smile – it made him look a little insane, but it was also strangely endearing. But Arthur ignored that thought in favour of watching Merlin follow the bellboy across the room to the table where the tray was being placed. There was a slight swing to the slender hips, an unconscious sexuality that was somehow far more attractive than the blatant, brazen posturing from earlier.

When the strawberries and champagne were safely down, the bellhop turned to Merlin with a hopeful smile. Merlin, however, met his eyes blankly, "Yes?"

There was no way the bellboy could ask outright for a tip – they were at the customer's discretion, after all, but it would be unthinkable for someone in the Ty Warner suite not to tip – the bellboy widened his eyes and tried to look still more hopeful.

"Is there something wrong?" Merlin asked, worriedly, "Are you OK? Arthur, is there something wrong?"

To avoid further confusion – however amusing it was to watch – Arthur stood, drawing a ten dollar note out of his pocket and handing it to the bellhop. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_, sir," The bellboy said, relieved, and made good his escape.

Arthur favoured Merlin with an amused glance as he poured him a glass of champagne. "Idiot," he said, lightly.

"Look, just because I forgot the tip," Merlin said, rather defensively, despite the gleam of rueful amusement in his eyes, "I'm getting back into the swing of things. I come here the whole time – as a matter of fact, they _do _rent this room by the hour."

Arthur laughed, handing him the glass, which Merlin obligingly drained immediately. Arthur stifled his sigh and offered him a strawberry.

"What're they for?"

"They bring out the flavour in the champagne," he said, rather pointedly, but Merlin just shrugged, taking two strawberries, and holding out his glass.

"You'd better fill me up, then," he said, giving Arthur a look which let him know that Merlin didn't just mean his glass. For a moment, they sipped and ate strawberries in silence, before Merlin put his glass down. "You know... I appreciate this whole – seduction routine thing you've got going on, but let me give you a tip - I'm a sure thing. So.... if we could just get on with it, I'll just pop your load and be on my way. You only booked an hour, y'know."

"I'm sensing that the 'time' thing is a real issue with you," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well. Time is money, and all that. I've got to be up and earning."

"Let's sort this out right now..."

"Great," Merlin agreed, "let's get started!"

"How much for the entire night?"

Merlin stared. "The _whole _night?" Arthur nodded, and Merlin forced back a stupid, delighted grin, and tried to play it cool. "Are you sure? I mean, you won't need a whole night of me, will you?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't feel like being alone tonight." Arthur shrugged, looking away from the dark man's kohl'd eyes.

"Why, is it your birthday?" He asked, with a grin.

"No." Arthur tried to make sure his reply wasn't curt, but had a feeling he lost the battle.

"Because, y'know, I have been the party at a couple of birthdays."

Arthur looked at the other man, taking in the artfully messed hair and wide, strangely trusting blue eyes. "I bet you have." He murmured, then shook himself. Back to business. "So, how much for the whole night, then?"

"A whole night here?" Merlin affected nonchalance, shaking off Arthur's revelation as easily as Arthur himself had. "You couldn't afford me."

"Try me." Arthur challenged.

"The _whole _night? A whole eight, maybe nine hours? Well, I should charge you eight hundred, but you'll get a discount for a bulk buy," he smiled, inviting Arthur to share the joke, while simultaneously thinking of his and Gwen's seven hundred dollar rent. "Seven hundred dollars."

"Done." Arthur said immediately. "There, maybe now we can relax."

Merlin stared, forcing himself not to grin like a madman, "Oh, you are gonna have the best night of your _life_!" he promised, and Arthur laughed.

"Maybe," he said doubtfully, "But only once I've finished looking through my messages. I'll be about half an hour."

**

Two and a half hours later saw Merlin lying on the carpet with the bowl of strawberries, watching old re-runs of 'Dad's Army' and 'Doctor Who', expression avid, laughing ridiculously loudly at all the jokes. Arthur finally emerged from his office, having lost his jacket at some point during his work, mobile in one hand. For a long, long moment, he stared at Merlin in silence, listening to the other person on the phone with half an ear; unaware of anyone watching, Merlin wriggled into a more comfortable position, long legs seeming to go on forever laid out behind him on the carpet, head propped in his hands. His face was illuminated by the light of the TV, and the pictures were flickering in his eyes – relaxed like this, he was frankly beautiful.

Merlin only realised Arthur was there when he finished up his phone call with a rather brief call-off. Arthur was already moving towards the chair parallel to Merlin, and stared at him for a good long while in silence.

"I, er... I have a little carpet picnic going on here," Merlin said, with a rather sheepish – Arthur did _not _ think 'endearing' – smile, "Can I tempt you with a strawberry?"

Arthur shook his head, not even looking at the strawberry he was being offered, eyes still fixed on Merlin's face.

"You know, I've never seen this episode before," he grinned, then caught Arthur's eyes. His face half-fell, then he smiled, turning the sound off on the TV and crawling – surprisingly sexily – towards Arthur, bare foot, his eyes rather predatory. Wedging himself between Arthur's thighs, he stripped his shirt off with a learned sensuality which was somehow as breath-taking as his moments of innate attractiveness, and slowly unbuttoned Arthur's own shirt, sliding his hands to Arthur's sides, firm enough not to be ticklish but still light enough to be sexy.

"What do you want?" he asked, very quietly, looking up at Arthur through his lashes.

"What do you do?"

"Everything," he said, simply, "But – I don't kiss on the mouth."

"Neither do I."

"Well then... what do you want?" he asked, again.

"Everything." Arthur returned.

Merlin grinned up at him, and bent his head, kissing his way down Arthur's chest, unbuttoning his trousers as he went, and pulling his cock out, already half hard. For a moment, he simply stroked it, teasing Arthur – with an accompanying look to tell the other man exactly what he was doing – one finger tracing the underside. Even half hard, it twitched, and Merlin rewarded the reaction by closing his hand round it and giving it one firm stroke, up and down. It hardened further, and he kissed the head, allowing his tongue to dart out, licking the slit.

Arthur let his head fall back against the seat. Clearly, 'not being alone' with a prostitute had been a fantastic idea, he thought, rather hazily, as Merlin wrapped his lips around the top of his now fully-hard cock, hollowing his cheeks and _sucking_, pulling a quickly-stifled moan from Arthur.

"Don't," Merlin said, pulling back, and pausing only to lick a broad, wet stripe up the side of Arthur's cock, "I want to hear it. I like to know when I'm doing a good job," he licked up the bead of pre-cum which had gathered on the head of Arthur's cock since he had had it in his mouth, "Like performance ratings for people in normal jobs."

Arthur huffed a laugh. "OK, then." He managed, as Merlin took the whole of his cock into his mouth, right down the back of his throat – gag reflex was apparently a foreign concept to him – and swallowing round it, a move which had Arthur thrusting his hips, trying to force himself further down.

Merlin repaid him by humming low in his throat, the vibrations travelling all the way along Arthur's cock, and made his eyes go blurry and out of focus for a few moments. After that, it all descended into a haze of wonderful sensations, and before he knew it, he was coming down Merlin's throat, and Merlin was swallowing every drop with an expression of apparent enjoyment.

The other man licked every last drop of cum from Arthur's cock before pulling back.

"Good?" He asked, smugly, and Arthur managed a nod.

"God, yeah." He said fervently, and Merlin nearly glowed.

"Oh, good." He grinned. "How good's your recovery time? Because you haven't just paid for my mouth, you know."

Arthur's own mouth went dry at that, imagining another orgasm like that one, and he shrugged, though his cock had already twitched it's interest. "I don't know. Whenever. I'm paying you to be here when I want you, aren't I?"

Merlin nodded. "Guess you are, at that. Will you have a glass of champagne now?"

**

It only took about half an hour for Arthur to be interested again, thanks to Merlin's 'casual', 'accidental' touches, and – everything, right down to the way he _talked_. He was apparently now 'on the job', and was sexy and flirtations and said such dirty things that it was hardly any wonder that Arthur was ready again so soon – a recovery rate he hadn't had since he was a teenager. Though, he did wonder whether it was _really _possible for Merlin to do that with his mouth...

It was a bigger turn on than it should have been to find that Merlin had prepared himself beforehand, and that he was slick and ready for Arthur. Merlin had stripped immediately after Arthur came the first time, and in the end, Arthur took him on the floor of the sitting room, in amidst the debris of the 'carpet picnic' Merlin had been having, thrusting hard into him while Merlin arched and moaned under him, flexing his muscles and scrabbling at Arthur's shoulder, begging and pleading in at least a dozen made up languages – and, somewhat strangely, an English accent.

He came inside Merlin with an explosive shout, clutching him tightly, Merlin's legs tight around his waist. Merlin had allowed himself a few minutes of panting, Arthur still soft inside him, his own cum hot and drying on his stomach, and moved away from Arthur, giving one last, spent little moan as Arthur's cock slipped free of his arse, pulling off the spent condom and disposing of it, before licking Arthur's cock clean of come once more.

Arthur half-led, half-carried Merlin to the bed, and lay down next to him, letting himself drift off into some of the best sleep he'd had in years.

**

The next morning, Arthur was up long before Merlin, and was fully dressed and eating breakfast – had even set up a kind of working dinner with the head of the company he was attempting to buy out – by the time Merlin appeared in the room, wrapped in a dressing gown. His hair was all over the place and his eyes were a strange kind of sleepy-warm, and Arthur thought, very privately, that he looked gorgeous.

For a moment, they stared at each other, then Merlin shook his head. "Sorry. I, er... I guess you remember I'm English from last night, right?" he looked a little abashed, "I – most of the time, I can keep hold of the accent, but, er... you had me really worked up last night." It was strange to see a person Arthur knew was a hooker blushing, but Merlin had a flush high along his cheekbones.

"It suits you better." He said, honestly.

Merlin smiled, but said nothing for a moment, until he gestured at Arthur's papers, spread around him on the table. "Well – look, I can see you're busy, and I didn't mean to sleep this late, so, er... I'll be out of your way in no time..."

"No, please!" Arthur said quickly, "I got breakfast for you." Tentatively, Merlin approached the table, and glanced at the food. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just ordered a bit of everything. I hope that's OK...?"

The lids on the plates lifted off to reveal pancakes, smothered in maple syrup and surrounded by strawberries, and a full English breakfast, as well as croissant and toast already out. Merlin's eyes were huge, but he managed to keep his smile politely small. "It all looks great, thank you."

He hesitated before choosing a croissant, while Arthur sat down and resumed looking through all his papers. "D'you sleep well?" Arthur asked, while Merlin stood at the window to the balcony, staring out at New York.

He turned back, "Yeah, too well. Forgot where I was this morning."

Arthur met his eyes laughingly, "Occupational hazard, I'd guess."

"Yeah," Merlin agreed wryly. "So, did you sleep?"

"Yes; better than I have for a long time, thank you."

Merlin kept back all the things he might have said in reply to that in any other situation. "So – you don't sleep, I'm guessing you don't do drugs," Arthur shook his head, emphatically, "you hardly drink, and," he glanced at Arthur's own plate, "You hardly eat. So what do you do? Cos I know you're not a lawyer..."

"No," Arthur smiled. "I, er... I buy companies."

Merlin sat on one of the chairs opposite him at the little breakfast table. "What, like, mergers, or takeovers?"

"Takeovers." Arthur said, a little surprised.

"Huh. They go well?"

"Yeah, well... I buy the companies when they're at a low, chop them up and sell them off." He shrugged. "It's a good system, it works. One well-aimed blow, and you can bring the whole thing tumbling down."

"So, you get them at bargain prices and sell them at a profit?" Merlin asked, round a mouthful of croissant.

"Yeah. Bargain prices like the billion dollars I'm set to spend buying my latest company." Arthur hesitated, then laid the report he was reading through down, and leant forwards; Owain's advice about not going to the dinner with Andrew Hora was fresh in his mind, after all. "Merlin, I have a business proposition for you."

Merlin looked a little wary, "What do you want?" he asked, swallowing his croissant this time.

"I'm going to be in town for a week, and I want you to spend that week with me," Arthur said, bluntly.

For a second or so, Merlin was silent, then he said, in a hushed voice, "_Really_?" A disbelieving smile was already starting to grow around the corners of his mouth.

"Yes." His voice was firm; Arthur rarely joked. "Yes, I'd like to hire you as an – employee. Would you consider spending the week with me?" Merlin still had that faint, disbelieving look on his face, so Arthur elaborated. "I will _pay _you to be at my beck and call."

Merlin took a deep breath. "Look, I'd love to be you – beck and call girl-"

"For future reference, you called _yourself _a girl just then," Arthur said, allowing himself a rare moment of childishness.

Merlin ignored him. "But you're a rich, good-looking guy, you could get whoever you wanted free."

"I want a professional," Arthur admitted, "Someone I don't have to be entangled with; the last thing I need this week is romantic hassle."

"Well..." Merlin wavered for a moment, then said, "You're talking twenty four hours a day – it's going to cost you..."

"Of course," Arthur smiled. "OK, then – ballpark figure. How much?"

"Five nights – days too..." he glanced up. "Seven thousand."

"Five nights at six hundred is three thousand." Arthur countered.

"You want days too!"

"Five thousand." Arthur offered.

"Six thousand," Merlin returned.

"Done!"

They sat in a silent tableau for a moment, then a grin split Merlin's face. "Holy shit!" He beamed.

"Is that a yes?"

Merlin could only nod, but it was fairly obvious that that was not only a yes, but an emphatic one, at that.

**

"I'll be gone most of the day," Arthur said, about fifteen minutes later as he was preparing to leave, "And if you're going to be here for the next week, you're going to need clothes," he pulled out a thin wad of notes from his wallet, and threw them down on the bed, as Merlin reappeared from the bathroom. "We're both going to be going to a business dinner tonight. You'll need a tuxedo, and that's just a start."

Merlin picked the notes up, counting them almost automatically. "I - OK." he frowned. "Um, where do I go for a tuxedo?"

Arthur shrugged, rather impatiently. "Any of the big fashion houses will do them, just ask when you get there. Take a taxi or something."

"What, you taking your Aston Martin?" Merlin asked, with a wicked grin.

"Not my Aston Martin." Arthur managed a smile, attempting for the third time to tie his tie properly.

"Oh, come here." Merlin batted his hands away, and replaced them with his own. "So, who's car is it?" he asked, tying a perfect half-Windsor with long, dexterous fingers.

"My lawyer's." Arthur said, watching Merlin in the mirror as he completed the tie. "Where did you learn to tie a tie like that?"

"Slept with the debate team at school." Merlin said, giving him a wicked little glance through his eyelashes. Arthur stiffened. "Oh, relax." Merlin grinned. "I went to grammar school; they were strict about that sort of thing."

"Which grammar school?" Arthur started, but Merlin's expression shut down, and he shook his head, forcing a small smile.

"Go on, you'll be late. Or, something." He shrugged. "C'mon, get."

"See you later, dear." Arthur said, sarcastically. "And try to look decent. And learn how to eat properly. You can't eat with your fingers."

Merlin grinned after him. "Sweetheart, I'm going to treat you so well, you're never going to want to let me go."

Arthur turned back. "I'm paying you six thousand dollars to treat me fantastically – and, rest assured, I _will _let you go."

**

The moment Arthur left, Merlin wasted no time in ringing Gwen and checking she was OK. On discovering that his flatmate was fending alright for herself, he showered quickly, poured himself back into the ridiculously tiny shirt and skin-tight jeans, heading downstairs to fulfil the order of 'a tuxedo'.

Merlin privately thought Arthur didn't know New York that well; there was no need to take a taxi anywhere when they were right on Fifth Avenue. For a while, Merlin wandered abstractedly until he saw somewhere which looked small and unintimidating enough for him to venture into.

"Can we help you, sir?" A tall, scarred man asked, and Merlin gave him his most disarming smile - the one that usually had potential clients weak at the knees - and nodded.

"Um, yes. I'm looking for a tuxedo...?"

"All our tuxedos are very expensive." The scarred man - his name take read 'Edwin' - said, a malicious ring to his town. "Pellinore, how expensive are our tuxedos?"

"Oh, very expensive." His colleague corroborated, his eyes flicking over Merlin and taking in every unflattering detail, the tired plimsolls, too tight jeans and nearly transparent shirt. "In fact, you know, I don't think we'd have anything that would suit you, either."

"No, I don't think so either." Edwin agreed, quickly.

Merlin started to frown. "I thought a tuxedo was a tuxedo. Y'know, and it wouldn't matter what I looked like."

The two sales assistants exchanged long, speaking looks at this display of ignorance. "Oh, no." Edwin said, sweetly. "No, and I don't think any of ours are your sort of thing."

"Look," Merlin said, beginning to get worked up, "I've got money to pay for this," he yanked the rather crumpled wad of notes that Arthur had given him out of his pocket, "And I just need to get a tuxedo, so I'd really appreciate-"

"I don't think we have _anything _here that would suit you," Pellinore said, sharply, "Now, please leave."

"All I need-"

"Please leave!" Edwin snapped, and the two of them turned away, pointedly.

Merlin let his hand holding the money fall back to his side, and blinked, eyes feeling hot and dry. He neither wanted to stay in the shop with either of the two assistants, nor head out into the street and have to face the rest of the world. He felt - raw. Despite being a whore, he had managed to store up a little pride, and having it stripped away like that hurt more than he'd imagined. That a complete stranger could look at him and judge him like that...

He stumbled over the door step as he left the little shop, and flushed bright red, eyes oddly blurry. Any other day, and any other situation, he might have laughed it off; but he was in this world of Arthur's for the next week, and he didn't want to have to deal with all of this snobbish malice for the next week. He wasn't sure he'd survive it in one piece.

**

He dawdled his way back to the hotel, unwilling to go back and face all the disapproving stares he'd had last night and this morning, and unwilling to have anyone report to Arthur that he'd hardly been out for half an hour; he didn't want Arthur to think that he hadn't tried to find a tux. This was too good a deal to bugger up over something so stupid. But when he finally walked into the hotel, hoping to escape up to Arthur's suite and lick his wounds, he found himself confronted with the maitre d', one eyebrow raised in disapproval, mouth quirked to one side. "Excuse me, sir, might I have a word?"

Merlin was so tired and low, he could have wept, but as it was, he just threw up his hands and shrugged. "Oh, why not?" he asked, with a rather hysterical laugh. "It's not like you can make today any worse."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, sir." The maitre d' said, without sounding the slightest bit sorry.

"Yeah, bet you are." Merlin said, acidly. "You're going to call the cops, aren't you?"

"If you'd just come this way, please..."

"Oh, of course." he simpered, in bitter mockery. "I'd be delighted to 'just come this way'. _Do _call the cops. The more, the fucking merrier."

The maitre d' ushered him implacably into his office, and Merlin slumped into one of the wood-and-leather chairs, torn between pouting and simply sulking. Really, he couldn't think which would be a better look for when the police came to take him away.

"Mr ...?"

"Merlin." He snapped. "My name is Merlin. Not 'Mr' anything."

"Merlin, then." He said, taking his own seat. "My name is Gaius Healan, the manager of this hotel. I thought it would be best to take you aside to have a little - chat."

"Oh, _before _you call the police?" Merlin asked, sarcastically.

"Calling the police would cause considerable embarrassment to our guest, and we here at the Four Seasons, New York, want to make sure we give our guests the best possible experience. You see, Merlin, we like to think of our best, most regular guests as _family_, and Mr. Pendragon is one of our very best guests." Merlin nodded, as Gaius pinned him with a pointed glance. "For that reason, we're willing to overlook a - relationship - we would normally not condone. You, of course, are Mr. Pendragon's...." he waited for Merlin to give him some kind of verbal cue, but Merlin was too busy waiting to _receive _some kind of verbal cue. After a long pause, Merlin took the plunge.

"Cousin?"

"Cousin, of course. And once Mr. Pendragon leaves the Four Seasons, you'll be returning with him to England, and will be unlikely to return here."

Merlin flushed again, and fought back deeply unmanly tears. This was _not _happening; not for the second time today. Being treated like a second class person wasn't supposed to happen at every turn. Not when he'd just got a break like this. "No." He choked out. "Of course I won't."

"You have no other - cousins here?"

Merlin laughed, weakly. "Don't worry. No more relations." He stood. "Is that all?"

"I was rather hoping," Gaius said, delicately, "That you might have found some more - suitable clothes."

Merlin bit his lip, torn between shame and anger, "Well, I went out and I tried," he said, his voice very unsteady, refusing to look at Gaius, "But no one will help me buy anything new until I don't look like this," he plucked ineffectually at the shirt, "And I can't look any different until I get something new." he pulled out the by-now-very-rumpled notes, and threw them on the desk, "Arthur sent me to buy a tuxedo, but no one will-" Gaius picked up the phone. "Oh, great." he flopped back down into a chair again, and threw up his hands. "Great. Now you really _are _calling the cops. I didn't steal that money, OK? I didn't-"

"Geoffrey?" Gaius said, his eyes never leaving Merlin's, "I have a young man here in need of a tuxedo, a Mr...?"

"Emrys," Merlin supplied softly, too taken aback to do anything else.

"A Mr. Emrys. Could you...? Wonderful. Yes, he'll be there in a few minutes. Yes. Oh, and Geoffrey? The young man's luggage went inexplicably missing, and he's been left in some - rather unusual clothes." he paused, then smiled. "I knew I could count on you to understand."

*

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur, as Merlin was handed a long black coat - "You may feel less awkward, Mr. Emrys," - and put into one of the cars the hotel had at its disposal. The driver, an enormous man with an even bigger grin called Gawain, talked his way through the traffic on Fifth Avenue, while Merlin wondered about hotels who thought it was necessary to provide their guests – 'cousins' or otherwise – with transport to drive them a couple of hundred feet down the road.

"There you go, Mr. Emrys. I'll be back for you in an hour."

Merlin stuttered out his thanks, then stood on the pavement for a good five minutes before he got up the courage to go in. Finally, he squared his shoulders, and pushed open the heavy steel-and-glass doors.

"Um, hallo?" he offered a terrifyingly-coiffured woman behind a counter a tentative grin. "I'm here to see - Geoffrey?"

"Mr. Emrys," A warm, elderly voice said from behind him, "I'm Geoffrey. I understand you need a tuxedo?"

"Um, yes," he turned to him, and came face to face with a tall, elderly man wearing a friendly sort of smile. It couldn't have been more different to the reaction he'd had in the boutique, and Merlin relaxed a little, giving the man his own wide smile. "For a meal we're going out for."

"Of course." Geoffrey ushered him up some stairs. "Now, do you have trousers to go with it? Or a shirt?"

"Um, no."

"Then you'll need them. And probably shoes too, yes?" Merlin nodded, "You're a twenty seven inch waist, right?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"Well, sir, it's my job to know..."

**

Merlin bounced back into the hotel, a bag with his shoes in one hand, his tux and trousers in a suit bag on a hanger in the other, and grinned joyously at Gaius. "Gaius!" he exclaimed, completely disregarding the important Japanese guests Gaius had been giving a guided door. "I've got a tux!"

"Yes," Gaius said, dryly, "And I'd rather hoped you might be _wearing _it."

"Oh, no, I didn't want to spoil it!" He grinned. "Look, I just wanted to say - thanks. Y'know, for helping me."

"It's all part of the service." He said, rather stiffly.

"Yeah, but I thought we'd already worked out that I-"

"Yes. Well." Gaius cleared his throat. "Well, Mr. Emrys, I'm delighted you're so pleased. And now, if you'd excuse me...?"

"Oh!" Suddenly Merlin saw the Japanese tourists. "Oh, I'm so sorry." He gave an awkward, apparently-instinctive bow, "Didn't mean to interrupt. Thanks again, Gaius!" With that, he bounced towards the lifts, grin so wide he actually scared one of the other guests.

**

Half an hour later, though, he was downstairs again - but Gaius was pleased to see that the young man evidently learnt quickly, since this time he waited until Gaius was free before approaching him.

"Gaius," he said, all the joy gone from his face and posture, "I, er. I... Arthur and I are going out for a meal tonight..."

"So I understood."

"Well - I don't know..." he broke off, frustrated. "All the cutlery. I don't know how to use it."

For a moment, Gaius hesitated; any other young man - any other young - and he would have given one of the waiters the task of educating him in this. But there was just something about Merlin...

"Come with me."

**

By the time Arthur got back to the hotel, after a long and difficult day talking over the details of the takeover deal he had going on with Unicorn Shipping, all he felt like doing was having a long shower and collapsing into bed, probably with Merlin. Still, he knew he couldn't stint on this part of the bid anymore than he could try and get through it all a little faster by skimping on the details. He showered quickly, pulled himself into a tux and all the appropriate bits that went with it, and from there into the lift.

He had been annoyed when Merlin wasn't waiting for him in the room - he expected his employees to be punctual - but he was even more annoyed when Merlin wasn't immediately visible in the foyer, or even in the bar. There were some couples sat at tables, some men and a couple of women sat at the bar, but no one who looked like the tousled, scruffy, strangely sexy hooker he'd picked up.

And then one of the men turned, looking at the door, and Arthur stared for a moment or two. Merlin didn't look anything like the boy Arthur had left that morning. The shirt he was wearing was open at the neck - not the proscribed way of wearing a shirt with a tux, but it showed off a gorgeous long, pale neck - and the black suit trousers made his legs look impossibly long.

"You - scrub up quite well." Arthur said, rather hoarsely, and Merlin grinned. Well, that at least was still the same.

"Thank you. You're late, by the way."

"You're gorgeous." Arthur said, unable to hold it back.

Merlin laughed. "You're forgiven!"

"Shall we?" Rather self-consciously, Arthur offered his arm.

Merlin's lips twitched, but he slipped his hand into the crook of Arthur's elbow. "Let's."

**

Andrew Hora and his grandson Lance were already waiting for them when they got to the restaurant, and Merlin made sure to stay on his best behaviour, shaking hands politely and smiling widely at the two of them. Arthur introduced him as 'a friend', and when Hora pressed him on whether or not he was a business associate, Arthur said, rather dryly,

"We have done some business transactions together, but Merlin's a friend. And a convenient dinner-date."

For the most part the rest of the evening went off easily. Arthur hashed through some business points with Andrew, and Lance and Merlin talked lightly together. Most of the things Lance was talking about meant that Merlin had to wing it slightly, since he knew nothing about them, but since at least half of Lance's attention was on Andrew and Arthur's conversation, it didn't seem to matter.

He did seem to have had a better time of it than Arthur – but then, he hadn't had to talk business all night. And he did manage to make it up to him that night for the wonderful meal, with long, slow, lazy sex, actually in the bed this time. And if it was even better than Merlin himself had ever had, well... who was going to know except him?

**

"So, what are you doing today?" Merlin asked the next morning, rolling a half-full mug of tea between his hands, taking a sip of it without breaking eye contact with Arthur.

"Well, I've got to go in to the office," Arthur said, looking up from the financial section, "Owain and I are going to go over our targets for the next few days, review the progress we've made, and then make another bid at undermining share prices." He gave a nod of thanks as Merlin refilled his coffee cup, "You'd better head back out to get some more clothes. If you're going to be here for the next week, you're going to need a lot more than just a tux."

Merlin flushed, forced a smile and looked away. "Well, if you think I should." He agreed, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. "Then maybe I'll go to the Guggenheim, or somewhere." he brightened. "You know, I've been here for three years, and I've _never _been to the Guggenheim? Or the Empire State Building. I bet it would be _amazing_..."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?" He asked, "I thought you would have been delighted to go out and spend my money."

Merlin's flush deepened, and there was a militant spark in his eye as he said, "Look, I'm not like that, OK?" he looked away. "If you say I've got to have different clothes, fine, I'll get some, but..."

"What is it?"

"Most of the shops round here won't serve me." Merlin muttered, the flush visible down the back of his neck as he bent over his mug.

Arthur put the newspaper down. "What? Why not?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Merlin snapped. "_Look _at me." He met Arthur's eyes. "Sorry. They just - think I'm some kind of- well... I dunno." He flushed. "I guess they just see what I'm wearing, and think the worst," he said, miserably. "I guess they see me for what I am."

He looked so miserable and ashamed, and something clenched inside Arthur. Slowly and deliberately, he folded his newspaper up. "OK." he said, quietly, almost gently. "OK."

"OK?" Merlin gave him a half disbelieving, half hopeful look from under his lashes.

"I'll come with you."

"What?!"

"I'll come with you. Owain knows he can always get hold of me via my mobile." He smiled, suddenly. "Insulting you is _my _job."

A grin broke over Merlin's face, and he ducked his head. "Oh, of course."

**

The first store Arthur stopped at was a Levis, since he insisted that jeans were an essential part of anyone's wardrobe. From there, they seemed to visit most shops, buying maybe one item at each, and finally, they reached a particular store, which Arthur seemed to know surprisingly well – Saks, hardly out of sight of the hotel. There, Arthur drew the manager to one side.

"My partner and I," he indicated Merlin, already cornered by a couple of assistants who were exclaiming over the colour of his eyes and the shape of his cheekbones, to Merlin's apparent terror, "Are going to be spending an _obscene _amount of money in here. And we expect," He grinned a little; it was wicked, since he knew already that Merlin wasn't the sort of person to enjoy fuss and fluster, "To be properly - flattered."

"Oh, of course, sir." The manager smiled, beatifically. "Though - sir... if you don't mind me asking - when you say 'obscene', do you mean just... profane, or _really _offensive?"

"Oh, _really _offensive." Arthur grinned, and the man's smile grew.

"Yes, sir. Of course."

Merlin's look of blind panic as six sales assistants converged upon him was one which would stay with Arthur for years to come.

**

Arthur had meant to spend that evening reading over the past and current figures for Unicorn Shipping, but after an afternoon spent at the hotel with Merlin, he found himself suggesting - quite spontaneously, when Arthur _never _did anything spontaneous - that they went out for a meal. Merlin agreed immediately, but then grinned,

"But," he said firmly, "_I _want to choose the restaurant. If you do it, we'll end up at some Michelin starred place, and we won't be able to _talk_."

"I didn't know you were so keen on talking."

"Well, there're often more fun things to do." Merlin agreed, giving him a mischievous look, "But most of them aren't appropriate for a meal out."

"Alright then." Arthur smiled back, "Surprise me."

*

Which was how he found himself in a tiny, raffish, _noisy _Italian restaurant in downtown New York half an hour later. Merlin had insisted that Arthur abandon his habitual suit trousers and shirts in favour of jeans and a T-shirt - "You're the one who said they were essential, prove it!" - and Merlin was casual and relaxed in a pair of the jeans Arthur had bought him, his own worn plimsolls and a tight blue T-Shirt.

"You should wear more red." Arthur commented on the subway there - Merlin had said that there was no way they could take a limousine into downtown New York.

"Nah, red isn't really my colour." he said, cheerfully. "Drains me. No one wants an anaemic hooker; they think they'll catch something."

Arthur glossed over that, and though he complained about the restaurant Merlin dragged him to - "how are we going to be able to _hear _each other, Merlin!?" - he rather liked it. It was so very different to the places he normally went. When he described those places, Merlin laughed out loud.

"I'm glad we didn't go anywhere like that, then." He said, eyes alive and happy. "Those are places you take future in-laws and business partners. I'm neither of those."

Arthur was a little hazy as to what Merlin was now - for something he'd only started because he wanted an uncomplicated, straight-forward arrangement, someone on his arm for a week who expected nothing complicated from him, the lines had blurred somewhere, and he'd found himself both dreading the end of the week and longing for it, so his life could go back to being the simple, straightforward schedule of business, 24/7. Problem was, it felt like his life had been hollow for years before, and Merlin had come along and put himself firmly at the middle of the empty space, branching out to fill all the other parts. And there had been moments in the past couple of days when Arthur thought he'd rather die than lose that feeling.

"No." He said finally, simply. "You're neither of those."

If Merlin noticed his turmoil, he didn't say anything. They drank cheap red wine and ate pizza, and shared an ice cream sundae, fighting with the long-handled teaspoons over who got the last mouthful - and though Arthur won their 'duel', he let Merlin have it, just so he could watch him eat it, hollowing his cheeks, unconsciously obscene, around the spoon, then licking the last residues off the handle with an agile tongue - and talked about just about everything. Arthur was surprised, and pleased, to find that Merlin wasn't at all thrown by any of the business-related things he talked about ("I did Economics A Level..."), and listened with some interest to Merlin's ideas.

"But - why don't you _keep _the companies you buy?" He asked, taking another sip of his wine. "You've bought out some of the biggest companies in each sector, but you just carve them up and sell them."

"I know how to carve companies up." Arthur said, quietly, "But I don't know how to run them. I don't have the _time _to run them."

"Well, take Unicorn Shipping, for example." Merlin said, slowly. "You buy out a majority of the shares. You're the majority shareholder, you effectively own the company - then you let them run it as before, but you get the benefit of it."

"And when the shares plummet?"

"You buy companies and hope you can sell them, don't you tell me that _my _idea is too risky." Merlin grinned, sipping the wine again. It was staining his lips red, and if they'd been anywhere else – or any_one _else – Arthur might have been kissing him by now. As it was, neither of them kissed on the lips.

Instead of dwelling on that thought, Arthur grinned back. "Tell you what, when you've made a fortune that way, you can tell me 'I told you so'. For the moment, I think I'll keep going the way I have."

"Well, it's your funeral." Merlin smiled over the top of his glass, and Arthur's heart lurched with some unidentifiable emotion.

"Yeah." he said, huskily. "Yeah."

**

The drive back to the hotel in the limousine was felt far too long to Arthur; he didn't know what he was feeling for Merlin, but he knew he _wanted _him, more than he'd ever wanted anyone before; and that was something he could act upon. For Merlin's part – well, he hadn't been really interested in sex since he'd arrived in America and started this job. Sex was business, not pleasure; but sex with _Arthur _was somehow different. He didn't know what it was, but he wished he hadn't picked a restaurant quite so far away from the hotel... Without even thinking about it, he clicked the button to put the privacy screen up, the one which would separate the driver's compartment from the passengers. He flushed the moment he realised what he'd done, and glanced, almost shyly, at Arthur. This kind of sex – warm, unscripted sex (almost loving?) – wasn't something he knew how to do.

So it was Arthur who slid an arm round his waist, pulling Merlin to him, but Merlin who turned away from the kiss Arthur tried to give him on the mouth, pressing a kiss to the other man's jaw line and sliding a hand up his thigh, running one finger up the zip of his jeans.

"Anything I can do for you?" he teased, looking up at Arthur through his lashes, and the roof of Arthur's mouth went dry.

"Oh, I can think of a couple of things," he said, keeping his voice level with effort.

Merlin laughed, warm and low in his throat, sliding off the leather seat and onto his knees in front of Arthur, manoeuvring himself in 'v' of his legs. "Well, are you going to give me details, or am I just gonna have to guess?"

Arthur leant forwards until their noses were almost touching, and nodded. "I don't want to waste it in the back of a car," he said, simply. "Come back up here. I just want to – I don't know," he chuckled, embarrassed. "Hold you. Is that OK?" When Merlin nodded, he pressed the issue. "No bad memories?"

Merlin laughed. "You'd be amazed how few of my tricks want to curl up with me."

Arthur nodded as Merlin crawled back onto the seat, settling himself comfortably at Arthur's side. "Good. Virgin territory."

"Didn't know virginity was such a big thing with you."

"I don't give a damn if you've slept with hundreds of men," Arthur told him in a low voice, muffled because he was resting his forehead on Merlin's shoulder, "Sex doesn't bother me. But I want you to remember me with the good things as well."

"Sex isn't good?"

"Sex is great," Arthur said, fervently, and Merlin laughed, the loud, warm laugh that went so well with his enormous grin, "But there's more to – well, more to it than that. I want you to remember me with _all _of it. I want you to associate me with every part of love-making."

"Sounds a bit dangerous, in my line of work," Merlin said, rather dubiously, though he made no efforts to move away.

"I thought none of your tricks wanted to curl up with you?" Arthur asked, gently, mouthing a kiss to that long neck. "You're safe."

"True." Merlin tilted his head, baring his neck even further to Arthur's ministrations, "I guess it's safe. Just with you."

**

Back in the hotel room, Arthur barely waited for the door to shut before shoving Merlin up against it, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the line of Merlin's jaw, sucking a bruise to the surface on the tender skin just below his ear, and Merlin moaned his approval, allowing one arm to wrap around Arthur's shoulders as his head tipped back against the door, while the other hand slipped under the T-shirt, bunching it round his wrist as he slid his hand up, finally finding what he'd been looking for, and rubbing his thumb over Arthur's nipple, teasing it to hardness, and rolling his hips against Arthur's growing erection.

Arthur growled against his neck, and bit down before pulling back, pulling the T-shirt roughly off, and manoeuvring them over to one of the sofas, where he climbed on top of Merlin and resumed kissing him. Merlin arched his back, bringing more of them into contact, and nibbled his way up Arthur's neck, one hand slipping down to Arthur's jeans, undoing them and grasping the blond man's hard cock, stroking it rather languidly, a direct contrast to the almost-frenzied way Arthur was kissing him. Slowly, Merlin used his hand to drive Arthur wild until he was yanked without ceremony into the bedroom.

There, he found lube himself, and managed to strip his shoes and jeans off without tripping over his own feet; he even managed to pull Arthur's off as well without losing balance, no mean feat for him. But the real achievement was watching Arthur's eyes glaze as Merlin knelt with a knee either side of the other man's hips, moaning rather theatrically as he slicked himself open with his own fingers, before sitting back onto Arthur's cock. It didn't hurt any more, and he moaned, now without a hint of theatricality, as it slid into him, filling him in a way he hadn't even known he wanted to be filled before he met Arthur.

He rode him slowly, arching his back and tensing the muscles in his arse, Arthur's hands hot at his hips, and when he came, it was almost a surprise. He had managed to angle it so the cock inside him hit his prostate dead on, but it had felt so gentle, so slow, he was almost surprised by his orgasm. His drew Arthur's on, and he relished in watching Arthur come apart inside him.

They both slept well that night.

**

By the time Merlin stumbled from the bed to the dining area the next morning, Arthur was up and showered and reading the paper again - though this morning, he put the paper down as soon as Merlin appeared, smiling at him. "Sleep well?" he asked, as Merlin collapsed into a chair, sprawled and relaxed, hair all over the place.

"Yeah." he grinned, the slow, sexy grin he'd first given Arthur in the car when they'd just met, the one that made Arthur decide to hire him for that first, fateful night."Yeah, I did. You?"

"Mm-hmm. Try not to take forever getting dressed, would you? And wear - that grey suit. Don't worry about a tie."

Merlin frowned over his mangled croissant. "Where are we going?" He asked, curiously. "I thought you had work?"

"We're going to watch a game of polo."  
Merlin stared. "_Polo_?! You mean, "Prince Charles" polo? On horses?"

Arthur grinned. "That's the one."

Merlin started to grin, too. "So you're playing hooky?"

Arthur gave him a haughty look. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll still be working. _Net_working."

"Oh, nice pun." Merlin said, appreciatively.

"Thank you, I was rather proud of it too."

Merlin ate in silence for a moment, before swallowing the last bit of croissant. "So, who's there to network with?"

"Lance Hora will be playing; he's a keen horseman, apparently." Arthur said, casually. "And of course, his grandfather, as his only relative, will be there to watch."

"Ambushing them at a private game?" Merlin said, almost disapprovingly, and Arthur shrugged.

"Owain thinks it's a good idea." He sounded rather defensive, and Merlin backed off immediately.

"Then I'm sure it is." He agreed, swiftly. "What do I know about this sort of thing?" He took a large gulp of tea, and swore as it burnt his throat. It was rather masochistic, but it served as exactly the distraction he'd hoped, and Arthur was in a perfectly good mood by the time they left the hotel for the polo match, driven as always by Gawain.

A tall, ginger young man greeted them the moment they got out the car. "Arthur, good to see you. And - this is...?"

"Oh, yes. Owain, Merlin. Merlin, Owain. Owain is my lawyer."

Merlin smiled widely and held out a hand, which Owain took, apparently under duress. "Pleased to meet you."

"And you." Owain agreed, brashly. "Tell me, Arthur, what's Merlin to you?"

"He's my current boyfriend, Owain," Arthur said, equally smooth. "I'm sure you'll get along."

"Oh, yes." Owain agreed, eyeing Merlin in a way which made Merlin genuinely uncomfortable. He shifted, awkwardly under that all-too-interested gaze.

"Merlin, we're just going to be talking business for a bit, why don't I introduce you to some people?" Arthur turned to Merlin, apparently ignoring Owain for the moment.

Merlin shrugged. "Whatever works." He offered him a smile, and Arthur steered him through the crowd with one hand on his back.

"Owain's a brilliant lawyer." he said, in a low voice, "But he's a bit – crude sometimes, too. I'd, er... I'd steer clear of him, if I were you."

Merlin shrugged. "If you think it's best."

Arthur answered with a nod, and moved to introduce him to a couple of people he recognised.

**

For the next half an hour, Merlin practiced his most "society" smile, and made polite small talk with everyone he met, even when it was incredibly difficult. He had been interrogated by no less than five 'respectable' society matrons about his and Arthur's relationship, and had finally resorted to shock tactics when yet another person inquired about it.

"It's just, you see," she had hastened to qualify it, "Arthur is one of _the _most eligible bachelors – half the people here would love to land him!"

"Oh, well," Merlin said, with false sweetness, "I'm not trying to land him, I'm just using him for sex." With that, he left them there.

So it was a real relief when Lance Hora appeared, giving him a wide, friendly, _real _smile.

"Merlin!" he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"

"Well, you know," he grinned; it was a relief to get rid of the horrible, fake smile. "I do polo-dates as well as dinner-dates."

"Oh, I'm sure you have many talents." Lance said, with a laugh, and in anyone else, it would have been a put down. From honest, friendly Lance, it was a pleasant compliment.

"So, I hear you're playing?" Merlin asked, and he nodded.

"Would you like to come and meet the pony? She's the one who's going to be using all the skill in the game."

Merlin laughed and nodded. "I'd love to."

"Sadly, I'm guessing the fact that you're here means that Arthur Pendragon is too." Lance said, as they walked over the grass towards where the polo ponies were tethered. To Merlin's surprise, he sounded put-out about that rather than angry. "It's lovely to have you here, but I wish you could have come without him."

"I know he's trying to take over your grandfather's company at the moment, and isn't exactly flavour of the month with you," Merlin said, loyally, "But he's really a good guy when you get to know him."

"He's got a reputation for ruthlessness a mile wide, and he drives vicious business deals." Lance said, frankly. "That's all I know about him, and that's all I need to know about him while he's trying to take over Unicorn Shipping."

"I think the ruthlessness is more his lawyer than him." Merlin said, honestly.

"Maybe. Look, Merlin, Arthur's going back to England soon, I know, and - when he does - I'd love it if we could... you know... meet up sometime." Lance stuttered, and Merlin smiled, fondly, if a little wistfully.

"Yeah, maybe." He hurried on. "Look, let's not talk about it for the moment, OK? Which of these - ponies?" Lance nodded. "OK, so which one is yours?"

**

Over the other side of the field, Arthur watched as Lance talked to Merlin - made him laugh, said something to make Merlin give him _that _grin, and glowered.

Owain, following his gaze, said very quietly, "So, how did you meet him again?"

"We just - met." Arthur said impatiently, too distracted to come up with any kind of decent lie.

"Where, though?" Owain pressed.

"Near Broadway." He said, in a voice casual enough to fool any off-hand listeners, but stony enough that it usually got Owain to back off.

It didn't work this time. "Near Broadway, huh? He at a show?"

"More giving one, actually," Arthur returned, still in that cool, bland voice.

"Huh. And he just – attached himself to you?"

Arthur gave Owain a cool look. "Not the way you're thinking."

"Well..." Owain tried a different line, "Does he work, then?"

"He's – he's in sales," Arthur extemporised.

"Right, sales." Owain nodded agreeably, "That's nice. What company?"

Arthur, wary of the third degree, fixed him with a raised eyebrow. "What're you getting at, Owain?"

"Look, Arthur, we're in one of the biggest deals of our – well, my – career, we can't be too careful about industrial espionage," Owain said, baldly, but Arthur just laughed out loud.

"Merlin's not a _spy_! Merlin wouldn't have the first idea of how to go about being a spy!"

"Well, I'd like to believe you, Arthur, really, I would," Owain said insincerely, "But I see him being all friendly with Lance Hora, and I gotta wonder, y'know?" Arthur looked back over and saw Merlin talking to Lance, saw Lance say something which made Merlin laugh, made him smile the way that Arthur had come to like so much over the last few days, and something dark and ugly twisted in his gut. He swallowed it down and his face was calm and blank when he looked back at Owain. "So I ask again," Owain pressed, triumph badly hidden in the lines of his expression, "How do you know he's not a spy?"

Arthur snapped. "Because he's a hooker, Owain, OK? I picked him up on Old 42nd Street, up past Broadway. In _your _car."

For a moment, Owain just stared, then he began to laugh delightedly. "Y'know – y'know, Arthur, you're the only millionaire I know who picks up bargain-price prostitutes on Old 42nd!" he laughed again, "So, tell me – is he good? Like, seriously good?"

Arthur looked at him in disgust. "God, I'm sorry I told you," he said, repulsed, and brushed past him. "Lady Helen, so glad you could come..."

Owain all but ignored his departure, staring at Merlin across the field, with an odd, hungry look on his face.

**

He finally got the chance to approach Merlin about half an hour later, during the second chukker, while Merlin stood along under a tree watching the game.

"So, Merlin – it _is _Merlin, right?"

Merlin nodded, looking a little uncomfortable, picking up on the awkward vibes Owain was giving off, and Owain himself smiled.

"So, Arthur's been telling me all about you," he said, rather gleefully, "I mean, I admit, I was a bit worried when I saw him with you earlier – he isn't like that with all his real partners – but now I know why, huh?"

Merlin stared at him, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah. I, er.... I guess you do."

"You must be a pretty incredible hooker for Arthur to have kept you around," Owain continued, carefully chipping away at Merlin's weakness. "I mean, I can't see anything special myself, but – I guess there's something kind of cute about you. And I bet you just _love _sex, right?"

Merlin swallowed, helplessly. "Yeah, I guess I do." He said carefully.

"What am I talking about," Owain corrected himself cruelly, "You'll love whatever you're paid to love, right?" he stroked the back of one finger down Merlin's check, tracing his jaw-line, his touch familiar enough to make Merlin shudder; Owain caught it with a gleam in his eye, "Look, when Arthur's finished with you, why don't we hook up? He said having you was pretty amazing."

Merlin's eyes widened momentarily in hurt and anger, then he deflated. "Yeah, sure." He agreed, dully. "Why not?" Nothing could have been more different to Lance's kind, friendly offer, and Merlin wondered how that would have been phrased if Lance knew what Merlin was.

"I knew you'd say that," Owain said, satisfied, and left him there with a self-satisfied smirk.

Behind him, Merlin blinked against the sunlight, and tried to concentrate on the polo, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. Really, he just wanted to go home and hide – but that, he reminded himself, couldn't happen for a good few days yet.

**

Merlin was very silent on the way back to the hotel; so quiet, in fact, that Arthur actually noticed it and asked him about it.

"I just don't know why you made me dress up for this," he snapped, the moment they were back alone in the suite, "If you're going to tell everyone what I am, anyway." He stalked into the bedroom, without waiting to hear Arthur's reply.

"I didn't tell _everyone_, I told my _lawyer_," Arthur stressed. He felt defensive, because he knew it had been wrong and unfair, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being told so. "Which is frankly not a bad idea."

Merlin glared at him. "You don't get to – to pass me out to all your friends like I'm some kind of toy, like you're my – pimp, or something!"

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Arthur snapped, "But it's not my fault if Owain-"

"If you don't want him saying anything, _you _shouldn't say anything!" Merlin flashed back, "I don't need you pimping me out, _I-I_ say who, I say when, I say – I say _who_!"

"You're getting hysterical," Arthur said, coldly, "I said I'm sorry, and that's the end of it." He headed into the bathroom, and Merlin stared after him.

"I have _never _been made to feel as cheap as you made me feel today," he said, thickly.

Out of sight in the bathroom, Arthur winced, but his voice was still very cold when he replied, "I sincerely doubt that."

"In the bedroom, Merlin scrambled to grab his own clothes and the tux he had bought – got, been given, whatever – yesterday. By the time Arthur reappeared, he was pretty much ready to go.

"What are you doing?" the other man asked, still cold.

"I want my money," Merlin told him sullenly. "I want to get out of here."

Arthur's would-be intimidating glare had little effect when Merlin wouldn't even look at him. "Fine," he snapped finally, counting out the money – the full amount – and throwing it onto the bed, striding back into the bathroom. For a moment, Merlin stared at the money – their ticket home, his and Gwen – and turned away. He'd sell the tux or something, that would buy the tickets. He wasn't going to take money from Arthur. Not now.

He left to call the lift, praying it would arrive quickly, before he had to deal with another scene with Arthur.

**

When Arthur came out of the bathroom, the bedroom was empty and the money he was given Merlin was still on the bed.

He paused in thought for a moment, torn between following his instinct and apologising or letting Merlin go. Best to let him leave now, after all, before Arthur got too attached. His jealousy today had shown that it was likely that he would...

In the end, his better angel won, and he headed out to the lift, where Merlin was still waiting for it to come, his mouth set in a hard, hurt line.

"I'm sorry," he managed, with some difficulty, his voice very low. When Merlin hardly reacted, he actually had to force himself to go on, "I wasn't – _prepared _to answer questions about... what we have. About this relationship. And what I did was – was stupid, and cruel. But I didn't mean it to hurt you. And I... I don't want you to go. Please stay the week?"

Merlin didn't look up. "Why?" he whispered.

Arthur forced a wry smile. "I saw you talking to Lance Hora. I – didn't like it. I let myself get – get jealous and angry, and it was unfair. But I still want you to stay. If you don't mind."

Merlin paused for a long moment. "You _hurt _me." He said, sounding almost surprised by it. "I never let myself get hurt."

Arthur nodded, something inside him breaking a little. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"You've apologised." Merlin said, his own voice very quiet, "And you meant it. If you want that to be an end to it, we'll let that be an end to it."

"Thank you," Arthur said sincerely, "That's a great deal more mature than most of my previous partners."

"Just – Arthur?" Merlin's voice was now so quiet, Arthur had to strain to hear it. "Don't do it again."

**

Arthur wasn't sure how to act after that – if he had been with one of his 'real' partners, he would have tried to charm them into a good mood with the promise of a present or an outing of some kind, but Merlin didn't seem to be particularly interested in that sort of thing, not if his reaction to their shopping trip had been any indication. He liked the clothes and all the rest of it just fine, but the cost had bothered him, and he hadn't seemed overly thrilled by the idea of Arthur buying him things for the sake of it.

Equally, Arthur's other tried-and-true method of cheering up his partners – sex, fucking them into a good mood – was evidently not going to be appreciated in this instance.

So he was at a complete loss. Actually apologising had been enough new territory enough for one day, and he didn't even had an idea of where to start now.

Luckily Merlin himself solved the dilemma for him. "So, I know we should have angry make-up sex right now," he said, his eyes tired, "And obviously we can if you'd like, but, er... if it's up to me, I'd just like to crash in front of the TV with some old soppy films."

Arthur paused, torn. On the one hand, he didn't want to turn down the obvious peace offering – on the other, he wasn't sure he had time to spare just watching films. "I have work..."

"I knew you'd say that," Merlin said peaceably, "But I thought I'd ask anyway. How about just one film?"

Arthur hesitated a moment longer – then nodded. "OK. Just _one_, mind you."

Merlin laughed, and though it was a little tentative, it wasn't forced either. "Thank you for sparing your time!" he teased, "For that, I'm going to let myself chose the film."

"Well, then," Arthur said, allowing himself to be drawn into the spirit of the thing, "I suppose it's up to me to provide the popcorn, right?"

Merlin stared. "They do popcorn? Here?!"

Arthur considered it for a moment, "To be honest, I think they do just about anything you ask for," he said, frankly.

"Then, _yes_, definitely. No movie night is complete without popcorn – _salt _popcorn, that is." Merlin was already searching through the selection of DVDs which came with the hotel room, and he gave Arthur a mischievous glance at that.

"Demanding bastard," was Arthur's only response, said in a tone too fond for the words to carry any sting. Then he wondered, instantly, whether that would break their still somewhat fragile truce.

But Merlin just laughed, taking the remark in the spirit it had been given, and shook his head, "Git." He returned, without heat. "Call me any name you like, but that popcorn had better be salty."

For Arthur, who was used to spending large amounts of money teasing his significant others back to good humour, smoothing ruffled feelings with money, a bucket of salt popcorn seemed like a remarkably cheap price to pay to regain domestic peace. Had it been necessary, he would have done a lot more; he really _did _want Merlin to stay. It was an uncomfortable thought, but he'd obviously be sick of Merlin by the time their agreement ended. That was the way these things worked.

Pushing the thoughts away, he headed for the phone to order a little more room service.

Armed with popcorn and DVDs, they spent a warm, comfortable couple of hours together watching '_Casablanca_' – and then Arthur was mellow and unwound enough to agree to another move, this time '_My Fair Lady_'. By the time it finished, Arthur had his arm around Merlin's waist and Merlin was lying with his own arm flung across Arthur's stomach, his cheek on Arthur's shoulder.

From being a disaster of an evening, it had become one of the nicest, most relaxing ones that Arthur had ever had, and though he didn't know how, he was quite willing just to accept that fact. It was obviously a view shared by Merlin, if the look on his face was anything to go by; and he only finally pulled away during the final credits of the film, stretching luxuriously with a groan.

"I've always loved that film," he confided ruefully.

"It was one of my mother's favourites," Arthur revealed in turn, and for once the revelation didn't make him feel raw and exposed.

"She had great taste," Merlin said, half-solemn, half-kind. "Y'know, I always wanted to be Colonel Pickering."

"Really? Not Eliza?" Arthur teased gently.

"Oh, god no. She had had to work so hard for Higgins to love her; Pickering never had to. And, you know, he was established and wealthy and everything."

Arthur looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess we'd all like to be the Pickerings of the world, put that way," he agreed.

"Mmm. " Merlin nodded. "But some of us have got to be Elizas and Higginses, I suppose." He stood, abruptly, shaking off his rather melancholy mood. "Now! Are you going to work, or are you going to come to bed?"

Arthur thought for a moment, then decided to risk it. "Is there anything on offer which might make bed worth my while?" he asked.

Apparently it was OK to go there now, since Merlin grinned. "Well, what can I do which would – pique your interest?"

Arthur laughed, and leant towards him. "Oh, I can think of a few things..."

**

The sex was, as always, fantastic, but Merlin didn't find it as easy to sleep that night as he had before, and Arthur didn't seem to find it as hard, out like a light on the pillows while Merlin slipped out of bed and cleaned himself up before pulling on one of the pairs of pyjama trousers Arthur had bought for him. Returning to the bedroom, he paused, staring at Arthur for a long moment, his expression very soft.

"He sleeps," he murmured with a small smile, perching right on the edge of the bed next to Arthur, and half reaching to touch the other man's face before drawing back. After a brief hesitation, a moment of quandary, he kissed his fingertip, and reached out to touch it to Arthur's lips, wondering what it would be like to actually kiss him, properly...

When Arthur didn't stir at the touch of his fingers to his lips, he leant forwards, emboldened, and pressed a kiss to Arthur's cheek before, hesitating momentarily, he leant forward and kissed to Arthur's lips in a dry, chaste kiss.

Arthur startled awake just as he was starting to draw back, and Merlin jerked away, shocked, before offering him a soft smile.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," Arthur smiled back.

Slowly, Merlin leant forwards and kissed Arthur again, his lips closed and warm against Arthur's; it was Arthur who deepened it, his tongue sweeping across Merlin's lower lip. Merlin responded with a latent enthusiasm, one he hadn't felt since before he arrived in New York, when sex and everything to do with it had been new and exciting. One of Arthur's hands came up to cup his face, and in response Merlin wrapped his own arms round Arthur's neck, shifting himself closer, until Arthur rolled them over on the bed, lying in between Merlin's legs, and kissing him as if his life depended on it.

After that, the world descended into a haze of warm, clinging kisses, and Merlin stopped detailing it as they went. All he knew was that, out of everything he'd done, this was what felt the most fantastic.

**

"My mother died when I was small," Arthur confided, an hour or so later; midnight had long since been and gone, but he and Merlin were lying facing each other in the enormous bed, hardly able to bear looking away, "And my father refused to have anything to do with me after that. He loved her, not me."

"Stupid man," Merlin commented lazily.

Arthur's lips twitched. "Mm. Well, his was the third company I took over. I bought it, carved it up, and sold it off, piece by piece. Only thing I kept was the name – Camelot Industries. No one else can have that company now."

"You got even – that must have made you happy?"

"I don't know," Arthur said quietly, "I was so angry with him, I had been for so long – and, by the way, it took years of over-priced therapy to get me to say that – that I don't think anything would have made me feel better." He shook his head. "So, what's your sob story?"

"My sob story?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded, "How'd you end up in New York turning tricks for a living?"

He huffed a rueful laugh. "Well, there was this guy."

"Good way to start."

"Isn't it? I'm from a tiny village, and he was the bad boy – Kanen. He had... ideas, he knew things, you know? I thought he was amazing. And when he said he was going to New York and wanted me to come... well, I hardly thought twice."

"And your parents told you never to darken their doorways again if you left?"

Merlin shook his head. "My mum doesn't even know where I am," he said softly, "Kanen told me not to tell anyone; he was probably in some kind of trouble with the police, I never found out. I told her I was going away for the weekend with him, and I was going to ring her when I was all settled, but... I never got settled. It was horrible; we had this flat but no money for it, and Kanen didn't seem to want to work. I just wanted to go home, but I had no money for a ticket – and when I'd saved up enough, Kanen found it and just – took off. So there I was. Foreign city, no money, no contacts... no boyfriend. So I did everything I could to survive, and – this is it."

Arthur stroked a hand down his cheek. "What a bastard," he said quietly.

"S'what I thought." Merlin agreed, "But these things happen, you know? And we'll be able to go home now?"

"'We'?" Arthur asked, a little more sharply than he'd intended.

"Me and my flatmate. Gwen."

"Ah." They lay in silence for a moment, "I hope you're happy back in England." He said softly. "You deserve to be."

"Not what I hear most of the time," Merlin pointed out.

"Doesn't make it _true_."

"You and I both know, though, don't we," Merlin said, "The bad stuff is easier to believe."

Arthur acknowledged that with silence, drawing Merlin to him. "Maybe we can pretend it's not for a little while."

**

"So..." Merlin perched on the table by Arthur the next morning, dressed in just a towelling dressing gown, offensively chirpy, "What's the plan for today, then?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, surrendering his newspaper without much complaint. Things had changed since their talk the night before, but that didn't mean they had changed for the worse; the easy intimacy which had followed all the emotion and their impromptu heart-to-heart was unlike anything Arthur had experienced before, and he was enjoying it hugely.

"Well, is it work or play?" Merlin asked, biting into an apple and meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Work." he sighed. "Contrary to what you may have seen of me this week, it's always work."

"What, so you've _never _phoned in sick when you weren't?" Merlin asked, incredulously. "You _always _go in?"

"Merlin, I own the company." Arthur pointed out, "Who would I phone in to?"

"Well, OK, then. Let you off on that point." He took another bit of apple, chewing thoughtfully. "So - do you even take holidays?"

"Of course I do!" Arthur defended himself. "Last year I went to Paris, year before I went to-"

"But those are all _going places _holidays." Merlin objected. "I meant, do-nothing holidays."

Arthur quirked a smile at him. "'_Do-Nothing holidays_'?"

"Technical term." He said, airily, through another mouthful of fruit. "D'you ever take them?"

"Well..." Arthur thought, hoping to be able to say yes, but having to admit defeat. "No. Not really. I just - no."

"OK, then." Merlin frowned, putting what was left of the apple down. "Ring whoever it is you ring to tell them you won't be in." He pushed himself off the table and sauntered towards the wardrobe.

"Why?"

"Because you won't be!" Merlin called back. "Would you prefer jeans or those casual trousers who's name I-"

"Merlin, I _am _going in to work."

"No, Arthur," He appeared against the door frame, grinning. "You're not. You're playing truant for a day."

"I'm in the middle of a very important-"

"You're at the prime of life, and you've never played truant." Merlin said, firmly. "Trust me, that's more important."

Arthur knew he should protest, but he was all too aware that the week was coming to an end, and all too soon he wouldn't have this sort of thing to look forward to every day. Merlin was demanding and difficult and all the things Arthur had always said he wouldn't get involved with - exactly the things he had hired him _not _to be. And yet... being around him didn't make Arthur wish he'd never got involved with him or wish he hadn't been so stupid; he didn't think he even _could _regret his decision. It just made him wish that he had longer to spend swith him.

It made him sound a little grumpy when he said, "Fine. Alright then."

Merlin's smile slipped, and he looked away for a moment. "If - well, if you don't want to, I didn't mean to-"

"No." he said, quickly. "I want to."

The grin reappeared as if it had never gone. "Brilliant. Jeans?"

"Yeah." He thought for a moment. "Just - give me a moment, would you? I've got a few phone calls to make."

Merlin gave him a stern look. "You've got half an hour." He said, firmly. "No longer."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "Half an hour should be fine."

"Make sure it is." Merlin tempered the stern statement with another of his wild grins, and disappeared back into the bedroom.

**

Half an hour later, both Merlin and Arthur had rung the reception - for wildly different reasons - and Arthur had changed o of his suit and into the jeans and jumper that Merlin had put out for him. Arthur had made some frantic phone calls, and had, just, managed to organise everything within the time limit. Merlin was evidently worried - not unreasonably - that Arthur would lose himself in phone calls, like the first night he'd stayed at the hotel.

At the reception, Merlin picked up a large, square basket with his enormous grin of thanks, and smacked Arthur's arm when he tried to ask for a car.

"You prat," he said, laughing, "We're going to Central Park, it's just across the road!"

Arthur flushed, with a faintly embarrassed grin. "I've just got used to driving everywhere." He explained.

"Oh, so _this _is how the other half live." Merlin mocked, fondly.

"I don't like you very much, you know." Arthur said, following him out the door.

"What are you talking about, you love me." Merlin shot him a grin, which faltered as he caught the look on Arthur's face. "Just joking." he said, softly, and Arthur didn't know what to say to get that grin _back _on Merlin's face.

Awkwardly, he slipped a hand into Merlin's. "Central Park?" he asked, and Merlin nodded without looking up. "I know just the place."

**

They spent most of the day in the shade of an enormous oak tree at the crest of a hill in the park, looking out across a huge expanse of grass smoother and greener than the best-kept lawn. The tree had caused some arguments - "But I want to stay in the sun!" Merlin whined, but Arthur stood firm.

"You're too pale, you'll just burn. And I won't put aftersun on you when you start to peel!"

 

It was all strangely, comfortably domestic, and the thought that he wouldn't be around to smooth after-sun on Merlin's sunburn was an unwelcome intrusion. Resolutely, he pushed it away, and concentrated on the moment; no mean feat for someone who was used to planning every moment of the future down to the last detail.

The problem was, although Merlin was difficult and demanding, he was also loving and affectionate in a way none of Arthur's other, pristine, elegant partners had been. He was messy - the two thousand dollar tux Arthur had got him was still lying abandoned on the top of the piano, and if Arthur had tripped over his shoes once, he had tripped over them a dozen times - and loud - his shower-singing was some of the worst Arthur had ever heard - and difficult - in a week he'd fought more with Merlin over little things than he had with any of his other partners over anything. He'd never had fights with other significant others, even when they _should _have fought. But still, for all that he was being paid, Merlin was a _realer _boyfriend than any he'd ever had before.

Still. However much he _wanted _to... Arthur wasn't sure he was brave enough, emotionally, to find out what kind of partner Merlin would be when he wasn't being paid.

Merlin's head was a warm weight on his lap, reading a book held up over his face, one knee crooked up, one hand on his stomach. Arthur, on his mobile waiting for Owain to pick up, stared at him for a minute, taking in the way his face looked in repose, calm and relaxed, strangely happy for someone who'd dealt with so much. By the time Owain picked up, Arthur's hand was threading absently through Merlin's dark hair, and he managed not to lose his temper at all the same way he did normally.

**

They finally packed up the picnic Merlin had requested from reception at about half four, on Arthur's insistence, and headed back to the hotel, talking idly, joking with each other.

"You don't even play truant properly." Merlin said, laughing. "What kind of self respecting truant rings in to talk about business mergers?"

"The kind who wants to stay on top of his game."

"Which would make him a failed truant." Merlin told him, solemnly. "You've finally found something you can't do."

"What?" Arthur favoured him with a falsely supercilious frown. "Merlin, what _are_ you talking about?"

"World famous businessman - though, only _other _businessmen have ever heard of you-"

"Hey!"

"-And you can't even play hooky properly. Very sad." Merlin's wicked grin made Arthur drop the empty picnic basket abruptly and push him back against a great spreading oak tree, grinning at Merlin's squawk of surprise and kissing him, hands cupping his face tenderly, one thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

"You're – insane." He said fondly as he pulled back, and Merlin just smiled back at him, softer and sweeter than before, pulling him back in for another kiss.

The short walk back to the hotel was leisurely and full of easy conversation; and if Arthur's arm found its way round Merlin's shoulders, well, who was ever going to complain?

**

"You'll need a suit for tonight," Arthur told Merlin, adjusting his own tie in the mirror while Merlin showered.

Merlin stuck his head out, wet hair plastered to his forehead, still managing to look ridiculously sweet. "What? Why?"

"You'll find out."

"Tell me." Merlin demanded.

Arthur grinned at his own reflection. "Wait and see!"

"Tell me!"

"Could you be a little less demanding, please?" Arthur asked.

"I could _try_." Merlin said thoughtfully. "Now tell me!"

"Put your suit on and shut up." Arthur said, turning and grinning at him, and leaving the bathroom to the sound of Merlin insisting on being told.

**

Merlin pestered him all the way down to the car about what they were doing and where they were going and why he had to be wearing a suit. Arthur kept it to himself, keeping the smug, secret smile on his face just to frustrate Merlin.

He was so busy annoying Arthur for answers on the very short car journey, Merlin never even noticed where the car was taking them, and when it stopped, he bounded out of it before Gawain had a chance to open the door for him. Arthur nearly bumped into him as he got out, since Merlin was standing on the pavement, staring up at the Guggenheim above him.

"Why..." he cleared his throat, and turned to Arthur. "Why did we _drive _here, you stupid bastard?"

Arthur laughed, and propelled him forward with a hand on his back. "To fool you in to thinking we were going pretty much anywhere else."

"You don't even _like _ modern art." Merlin whispered.

"Well. I decided to give it a try." he smiled.

"It's seven o'clock." Merlin said, still in that hushed, awed voice. "Well past when they close."

"I persuaded them to open for me. We're having a guided tour."

"You organised a _private guided tour _so you could give modern art a try?" Merlin said, with a high, slightly hysterical laugh.

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Something like that."

Merlin paused in the foyer, staring up at the enormous vaulted ceiling, then turned to Arthur, eyes bright. "If I forget to tell you later," He said, quiet and private, "I had a really good time tonight."

**

 

Merlin adored the Guggenheim, drinking in every bit of information the guide gave them. The guide initially seemed rather bored, until Merlin's avid interest thawed through her annoyance at being forced to stay late and give this tour - though she did give Arthur a rather knowing look, apparently approving of Arthur's 'romantic gesture'. And it was certainly true that Arthur spent far more time looking at Merlin than at the art.

When the tour finally came to an end, and the car was back for them, Arthur genuinely feared that he wasn't going to get the stupid, adorable bastard back in - "I'm not _taking a car _back to the hotel, Arthur!" - and finally had to tell him that they weren't going back to the hotel at all. Which, of course, led to Merlin pestering him constantly to tell him where they were going next.

His reaction to the Empire State Building was, ironically, less awed, but he was unashamedly charmed by the upmarket pizza restaurant, loving the views over New York. But, Arthur noticed with a guilty thrill of joy, he seemed to be looking more at Arthur than out across the city.

**

When they got back to the hotel, Arthur had some messages waiting for him, and had to deal with them straight away - but when he'd finished, he didn't go on and on working well into the night like he would have done a few short days ago. Instead, he headed out of the suite's office and looked for Merlin, whom he finally found on the balcony, staring out across New York with a mug of tea in one hand.

"When I get home," he said, very quietly; this high up, the noise of the city was almost non-existent, "I might actually miss some bits of this place."

Arthur came to stand beside him at the railing. "Why? You've had a horrible time here."

"Most of it." he agreed, and looked across at Arthur. "I saw a different side of it with you. It's not just money that helps cities look nicer." With that cryptic remark, he turned back to the skyline.

"If you wanted to, you could stay." Arthur said, very quickly. It was an idea that had been growing in his mind ever since he first realised how fond he was getting of Merlin; a nice compromise between paying him outright and trying to have their relationship along normal lines.

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to be doing more and more business in America." he hurried on, "And I was thinking of getting a flat rather than staying in hotels all the time."

The frown darkened. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Well...." he paused. "I was thinking maybe you'd like to stay there. I'd like to see you when I'm over."

"You want me to be your mistress." Merlin said, flatly, and Arthur shook his head, quickly.

"No, not _mistress_." He said, awkwardly. "I - I mean, there wouldn't be - anyone else. But we wouldn't be..." He gestured awkwardly, then let his hands fall back to his side. "I'd pay for whatever you - needed. Wanted."

For a long moment, Merlin was silent, staring at Arthur in the darkness - then he turned away. "If you'd given me that offer a week ago," he told the city as a whole, and even in the quiet of their high balcony, Arthur had to strain to hear him, "I wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes. But things have changed."

"Like what?"

"It's just..." He shrugged. "I want more. I want the fairy tale."

"Look, I just want you here while I am-"

"I'm not staying in New York for your convenience, Arthur!" Merlin flashed. "I want to go _home_."

"I don't think we would do very well if I saw you the whole time." Arthur told him, sharply.

"And it might get a bit expensive, I suppose." Merlin said, bitterly.

Irritated, Arthur nodded, jerkily. "Exactly. You haven't exactly been cheap. Not that way, at least."

A hurt, angry flush appeared high on Merlin's cheekbones. "And then you wonder why I wouldn't want to agree to that."

"Look, it's a very generous offer-"

"Well then, I'm sorry I wasn't properly grateful." Merlin said sarcastically.

"And I have _never _treated you like a hooker." Arthur snapped, still annoyed. "Think about it."

He turned on his heel and headed back into the suite. Merlin turned to the city, and scrubbed a treacherous tear away angrily with the back of his hand. "You just did." he whispered, but no one heard.

**

For a while, Arthur fumed in the office, writing angry emails to staff that he would never send, and it was a long while before he calmed down. Some of the things he had said echoed back at him, and he winced at what he had said to Merlin; more proof that he shouldn't spend too much time around him. _No one _had made him angry like that for a very long time, and Merlin certainly didn't deserve to have something like that thrown at him every time they argued.

And Arthur didn't have enough experience in apologising to be sure that he could get Merlin to forgive him. He wasn't sure he deserved forgiving.

By the time he appeared in the bedroom, Merlin had showered, and was already in bed, knees curled up to his chest, reading the book from earlier, a tense, miserable little frown on his face.

"I'm sorry." Arthur blurted out - anything to get that horrible look off Merlin's face. And that, a malicious little voice pointed out, was another thing - Merlin could make him do _anything _for him, without question, and that was far too dangerous.

Merlin looked up, and managed a rather wobbly smile. "Do you even know what you're apologising for?"

Arthur smiled back, equally tentative. "I shouldn't have said - all that. It was cruel."

"But you don't regret making that offer?" Merlin pressed, and Arthur shook his head, hoping that that was going to be the prelude to Merlin accepting it. "Oh." Arthur waited, but nothing came.

"Are we - alright?" he asked, finally, but Merlin just shrugged.

"Do we even need to be?" he asked, tiredly.

"I'd like it."

Merlin sighed, then leant up to kiss him, gently. "Yeah. We're alright."

**

The next morning, Merlin was up before him for once, and had breakfast waiting, his briefcase packed - though Arthur did check it beforehand to make sure that he had everything he needed - and a suit laid out and pressed. Then he tied Arthur's tie himself, and stepped back, with a smile. It was the same size as his usual enormous grin, but there was something wrong with it, something Arthur couldn't place.

"Have a good day at work, dear." He said, humorously, and Arthur chuckled.

"You'll be here when I get back?" he asked, and Merlin nodded.

"I won't go without - without getting my money in person." he said, and Arthur suspected that he had meant to say something different.

"Well, good."

Stepping forward, Merlin gave him a quick kiss. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing." he said, very quietly, then turned him to the door. "Now get out. I've got packing to do."

Arthur turned back to him and gave him a proper kiss. "I, er... I got you a suitcase. For your things. And - a surprise. If you want it." He'd arranged it all last night after Merlin had gone to sleep.

Merlin frowned. "When did you -" he broke off. "No, you'll be late. Go on, get out."

"Promise you'll still be here."

The funny smile was back. "I promise."

**

The meeting was long and boring, and, above all, circular. The same arguments were being used over and over again, at greater and greater volume, while Arthur, at the head of the table opposite Hora, scribbled ideas in his notebook. He could do it. It was just a question of getting the courage to build something up, rather than ripping it apart.

For a moment, he paused, unsure of which way to go, then took the plunge. "Gentlemen, if you'd give me a moment alone with Mr. Hora."

A moment of shocked silence. "Bu- Arthur, what are you doing-" Owain began, and Arthur held up a hand.

"Owain, please, I know what I'm doing. _Now_, gentlemen." One by one, the suits filed out, until it was only Andrew Hora, Arthur and Owain. "You too, Owain."

"Arthur, please-"

"_Out_."

Owain went with a grumble and a backward glance that told Arthur he was going to be hearing about this.

For a minute or two, the two of them stared at each other, until Arthur went to stare out over the city. "Mr. Hora, I have a business proposition for you." He said, quietly.

"I thought we were already dealing with one of your business propositions, Mr. Pendragon."

"Unicorn Shipping _is _failing, as you know, sir." Arthur continued, with only a nod to acknowledge that he'd even heard him. "And although it does have those Navy consignments-"

"I thought they fell through!"

"A business lie, I'm afraid." Arthur said, with a rueful grin. "I wasn't sure you'd go for it, but I was grateful when you did."

Hora smiled wryly back. "A shocking moment of honesty there, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I know. But - although you have those Navy consignments, still, nothing new is coming in, and nothing new is _going _to come in without you pouring money into the company that you don't have. It needs to be re-imaged."

"And how do you suggest we do this, sir?"

"I'd like to propose that you go into business with Camelot Industries." He said, boldly. "Our lawyers can hash out the details."

Hora paused. "I – well, then. Yes, I'd be delighted to take your offer, Mr. Pendragon." He stood, and held out a hand for Arthur to shake, "You know – I find this difficult to say without sounding trite, but... we all go through tests in life and I believe you just passed this one with flying colours. I- well, I'm proud to do business with you, sir."

Arthur smiled warmly. "Thank you. Let's hope I pass any other tests that come my way, too." He turned to the door, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be," Hora's expression was far too knowing, "And the other suits can sort everything out adequately, don't you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it." Hora nodded, "I don't doubt that I'll be seeing more of you in the future, Mr. Pendragon. Good luck with that partner of yours."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Doing business with you is certainly going to be an education, Mr. Hora."

**

When he got to the car, he paused for a moment, then shook his head. "You know, Gawain – I think I'm going to go for a quick walk," he said slowly, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Er... look after that for me, would you?" He handed him his briefcase.

"Of course, Mr. Pendragon," Gawain nodded. "Car and I will be right here when you get back."

He nodded, smiled, and headed towards the small green patch in front of the impressive building. He had things to think about.

**

Back at the hotel room, Merlin, barefoot and casually dressed in a pair of jeans and one of Arthur's T-shirts, had just managed to finish the letter he was writing to Arthur, licking the envelope closed, when a knock came on the door. Confused – who else would come here, and why would Arthur knock? – he opened it, only to go cold when he came face to face with Owain.

"Well, well." Owain gave him a brittle smile, "Hallo again. I'm looking for Arthur...?"

"He's not here right now," Merlin frowned, "I thought he was with you?"

Owain's laugh was as brittle as his smile as he came in without waiting to be invited, "Oh, no. No, Arthur has not been with me for a while. In fact, I'd say it's safe to say Arthur hasn't been with me for a long time, because Arthur is – with you."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," Merlin said, nervous of the other man's strange mood and letting his mouth run away with him because of it, "Do you want him to screw you, or are we talking more, y'know, metaphorically?"

Owain ignored him, heading for the hotel room's bar, stocked with elegant crystal decanters instead of the standard little bottles. "No, you see, if Arthur was with me – _when _Arthur was with me, actually, _when _he was with me – he didn't just blow of billions of dollars in favour of some little shipping contracts. Drink?"

"No." Owain finished pouring it and held it out anyway. "No, thank you." Merlin said firmly, and watched as the ginger man knocked it all back in one.

"Well, then," he said, with a grotesque parody of a smile, "I guess I'll just wait."

"Yeah." Merlin agreed quickly, sitting on one of the lavish sofas across from the bar, and locking his hands in his lap to keep from twisting them nervously, "Arthur will be home any minute."

Owain looked up at that. "You know..." he said, with a laugh that Merlin didn't like any more than his previous ones. "This is _not _home." He stood, approaching Merlin in a way that he couldn't help but recognise – a way which made him instinctively move away, tightening his muscles and curling in on himself a little. "And you are _not _the proud husband waiting for your man," he sat down, uncomfortably close, and Merlin shifted away a little, "You are, in fact, a hooker. Maybe you're a very _good _hooker – I'd imagine you'd have to be to get Arthur to do all this for you..." he placed a hand on Merlin's bare wrist, idly tracing a patter there until Merlin moved his hand away, "And maybe if I fuck you, I won't care about losing _millions _of dollars... because, I have to be very honest with you right now, Merlin, I really do care. I really do."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he said, nervously, trying to keep him talking before Owain actually tried to fuck him.

"Are you?" the same hand placed itself on Merlin's thigh, "Are you really? I'm not sorry. I'm _pissed_. I am so _very _angry right now. So maybe if I screw you," Merlin moved his leg away, firmly, "And take you to sodding art galleries," the hand wedged itself between Merlin's thighs, and he pushed it off, "Maybe I can be a happy man, huh?" he groped for Merlin's cock, and he shoved him away, but Owain kept coming, and finally Merlin lashed out, hitting him a glancing blow on the jaw,

"Get off me!"

Owain paid no attention, grabbing his wrists tightly – in response, Merlin bit him.

"Ow!" For a moment, Owain stared at him, then punched him hard across the face, tumbling Merlin off the sofa onto the floor. Before he could do anything, Owain was on top of him, and though he screamed, and fought, the other man was heavier and easily able to keep him where he wanted him.

Then the weight disappeared from on top of him, and Arthur's voice was shouting, "What the hell d'you think you're _doing_?!"

Merlin scrambled back up onto the sofa, and watched, trying to get his breathing under control, concentrating on keeping himself calm, as Arthur dragged Owain off him, the two of them shouting at each other, barely listening to what the other was saying,

"What were you _thinking_-"

"God's sake, Arthur, what the fuck are you playing at-"

"Get the hell out of here, you two-faced-"

"Would you _listen _to yourself, this isn't _you_-"

"Look, I don't want to have to hurt you, Owain!" He was manhandling his lawyer over to the door as he spoke, and shoved him away from him by the lawyer's briefcase.

Owain met his eyes and shook his head, "I don't know how to tell you this, Arthur, but you already did. And over _what_? He's a whore, man, he's a goddamn-"

He didn't finish his sentence; Arthur's fist hit him clean across the jaw before he could. Behind him on the sofa, Merlin flinched at the sudden violence, and swallowed hard.

Grabbing the other man's briefcase while Owain was checking his nose – "God, I think you _broke _it!" – he threw it out the still-open door of the penthouse.

"Get out of here," he said, keeping his voice level only with a huge amount of effort.

"No – look, Arthur, you've known him a _week_, and I've given you _ten years_-"

"You don't give a _shit _about me!" Arthur shouted at him, giving up the struggle to keep his voice level, "And evidently I didn't know you, since I didn't think you'd stoop to rape! Jesus – it's the _kill _you love, not me, getting other people weak before finishing them off. You think there was ever a moment when I didn't know that? And I've had it with that!" He took a deep breath. "Get out." He said, low and very cold.

"Arthur-"

"I said, _get out_!"

With one backward glance full of loathing at Merlin, Owain went – Arthur slammed the door behind him, leaning back against it with a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

Opening them, he met Merlin's for a long moment, saw the way the other man couldn't quite disguise his uncertainty around him. For a moment, he paused, hovering over the edge of saying something, then shook his head and stalked out of the room. Behind him, Merlin slumped on the sofa; a great, wonderful week, and this was how it ended.

Merlin had picked himself up off the floor by the time Arthur came back with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, and was sat on the sofa, holding himself very tensely, a forced smile on his face.

"I'll be fine." He said, immediately. "He didn't do anything."

"He did plenty enough." Arthur said, grimly, reaching to touch the reddened, bruising lump on Merlin's cheekbone, jerking his hand back when Merlin flinched away. "Wait there." he said, harshly. "I'll - go and get some painkillers for that. There'll be some in the kitchen somewhere."

"I'll be-"

"I know, 'fine'." Arthur agreed. "But you'd be even better after painkillers. Do they even have Nurofen in America?"

"I don't know," Merlin said honestly, "But you don't have to worry about painkillers, the ice is enough."

"I want to." He left the room before Merlin could reply, and returned with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers, on one of the trays the hotel provided in the kitchen. "Here. Take these."

Obediently, Merlin swallowed the pills, and Arthur nodded, sitting down by him on the sofa and gently grasping his chin, turning his face towards him, and dabbing gently at the bruising with the towel-wrapped ice.

"I think I must have missed that lesson in school where they pull everyone aside and teach them how to hit," Merlin said, hissing as the ice contacted with the bruise. "They always manage to hit you _right _across the eye, _wham_... and it's like your eye just explodes."

"Not everybody hits." Arthur said, gently, as he rested the ice against the bruise.

"Obviously, I've just been hanging out with the wrong people." Merlin said, with a tired smile. "Well. I'll get used to it."

"Did stuff like this happen a lot?" Arthur asked, torn between tenderness and a horrible, helpless fury.

Merlin shrugged. "I wasn't in the habit of saying no." He said, tonelessly.

Arthur gave into his initial instinct, and leant forwards, ice in one hand, cupping Merlin's cheek with the other, and pressed a chaste kiss t the corner of Merlin's mouth. For a moment, Merlin sat frozen, but as he began to turn into the kiss, Arthur drew back. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let the man go if he didn't pull away. "Did you like the gift?" he asked instead, voice a little rough.

Merlin laughed, humourlessly, voice catching on it like a sob. "I never got round to seeing what it was." He said, tiredly. "I never even started packing. I was trying to write this." He slid out of Arthur's grasp and grabbed the envelope on the coffee table. "Here." he handed it to Arthur. "Don't open it till I've gone."

"Thank you." Arthur said, gravely, taking the letter with one hand, and glancing down at it. '_Arthur_' had been written on the envelope, in a cramped, hurried hand, and how fitting was it that even Merlin's handwriting was rushed?

But Arthur just slid it into the inside jacket of his suit, and went back to icing down Merlin's face. Probably, he could have stopped by now, but it gave him an excuse touch him – and he was going to be without that in just a few short days.

It was Merlin who stopped it, slipping out of Arthur's grip again, and standing. He had pretty much stopped shaking, and although he was even paler than normal, the bruise visible already on his cheekbone, he looked calm.

"I need to pack." He said, softly. "And then I'll get out of your way."

The words were on the tip of Arthur's tongue, but he bit them back. He didn't _want _a relationship. Everything would become so difficult, he told himself firmly, and didn't say the things he so badly wanted to.

He did, though, follow Merlin into the bedroom, and handed him the expensive suitcase he'd bought him, to hold the clothes, and all his belongings. At that point, he hadn't even known what he was about to do for Merlin, but it now looked practical rather than too extravagant.

"Thank you." Merlin said rather absently, opening it without a second thought, but Arthur held his breath. Inside the suitcase was an envelope like Merlin had just given him, this time with 'Merlin' written on it in Arthur's neat, flowing script. Merlin picked it up, and gave Arthur a confused smile. "Do I wait to open this?" he asked.

"Open it whenever you like." Arthur said gruffly, and turned away, heading into the bathroom, listening avidly out of sight as the envelope was ripped open, and the paper inside was unfolded. A couple of seconds later, Merlin appeared in the bathroom doorway, eyes bright.

"I... don't know what to say." He stuttered, holding out the print-out detailing the two first class tickets Arthur had bought for him and that flat mate of his, open-ended so they could be taken up anytime.

"I don't want you to say anything." Arthur said, huskily. "I just-" I just want you to be happy was a ridiculous thing to say, and Arthur refused to say it; but it was true nonetheless.

Merlin paused, his hands trembling slightly – the only indication of it was the way the paper print-out of the ticket shook. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "Just – thank you."

"You're welcome." Arthur said awkwardly. "D'you – er... d'you need help packing?"

Merlin nodded quickly. "There's – yes. Yes, I do." He would never admit that it was an excuse to eke as much as possible time together out of his remaining time with Arthur.

They packed in near-silence, wavering between comfortable and melancholic , and despite what Arthur having bought him what felt like mountains of clothes, it all fit easily into the suitcase in far too little time. Merlin hefted it off the bed, grateful for the fact that it was on wheels, and Arthur smiled at him, the same tired smile from their first night together.

"Here's your money," he said, counting out sixty one hundred dollar bills, and handing them to him, "And here's my card. If you ever need anything - anything at all, dental floss, whatever," Merlin huffed a laugh, "Just call me." The briefest pause, "And – thank you."

"Thank _you_. I had a really great week," he replied softly, tucking the money into a pocket of his jeans.

Arthur watched him to the door, then caught his hand before he could leave, "Stay," He said, quick and desperate, "Stay the night with me. Not because I'm paying you, because you _want _to."

"I can't," Merlin told him helplessly, and Arthur's face closed off. Merlin shook his head, "Not because I _don't _want to, because – I would never leave. And I have to. I _have _to."

Arthur's expression softened into a smile, and he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." He opened the door for Merlin, lifting the hand he was holding up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "Goodbye."

Closing the door behind Merlin felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done.

**

When Merlin slammed the door of their grotty little flat – having convinced Gawain that no, he didn't need to be escorted up to his flat – Gwen appeared immediately in the doorway from the bedroom, and an expression of relief appeared on her face. "Oh, it's only you." She sighed, then perked up. "So, how was it? Are you OK?"

 

"Yeah." Merlin said, quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine." He dragged the suitcase behind him to the room they shared, and put it on the bed.

Gwen stared. "My god, how much did he _get _you?"

To his absolute horror, Merlin felt tears start in his eyes. "A lot." he managed to keep his voice steady, but it was a hard-won battle.

"And he wasn't - y'know - odd, at all?" She asked, anxiously.

"Oh, he was plenty odd." Merlin smiled. "But not the way you're thinking."

 

For a moment, Gwen just kept staring - then came towards him, and put an arm round his shoulder. "Oh, Merlin," She said, sympathetically. "You really fell for him, didn't you?"

He didn't cry, thank God - he didn't think he'd ever recover if he did - but he did go very quiet and nod, helplessly. "But he didn't want anything like that." He said, keeping his voice level only bay an act of sheer willpower. "He, er... he offered to keep me in a flat here. Said he'd be doing more and more business here, and would like to see me again."

"What about going home?" Gwen asked softly.

"I said no." Merlin whispered. "Told him I wanted the stupid fairy tale. And I really hoped..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed before continuing. "I really thought that he- y'know, that we might..." He broke off, looking down. "And now I'll never see him again."

"Oh, Merlin." To Gwen's credit, she didn't mention their long-held, rather desperate desire to get back home, any of the things which would have made Arthur's plan anathema to her; she just held him, one arm round his shoulders, and murmured all the comforting things he needed to hear.

After a while, he calmed down and got enough control over himself to pull free. "Sorry." He apologised, automatically. "But - he - before I left, he got us these." He pulled the envelope out of the front pocket of the suitcase, holding it out to her.

Frowning, she took it, and pulled out the tickets. For a moment, she was completely silent, her mouth falling into an 'o' of shock. "Merlin, this is-"

"I know."

"When should we go?" She asked, her hands clutching the ticket tightly.

"If we didn't have stuff to organise before then, I'd say tomorrow." Merlin said, hoarsely. "Not like either of us have anything to stay for."

"Why not tomorrow? We both know the plane timetables like the back of our hands, BA fly out every night at seven, we've got passports-"

"What about our visas?" Merlin pointed out.

"They were never registered as out of date," Gwen pointed out, "That's what we were paying all that money for, wasn't it?"

"Packing, then."

"Doesn't take too long." She glanced round. "I doubt there's much either of us are going to be too sad to leave."

He shrugged. "Well, then - I need to change dollars to pounds."

"They'll have a bureau de change somewhere in the airport." She said persuasively.

"They might not fly on a weekend." Merlin suggested weakly.

"Merlin. Of _course _they fly on a weekend." She said, then paused. "Do you want to leave or not?"

He sighed. "Gwen," He said rather pathetically, "What if he comes back here?"

Another, less generous person would have pointed out simply that Arthur most likely wouldn't; that no matter how hard Merlin had fallen for him, Arthur's offer to 'keep' him in a flat in New York probably spoke more loudly than anything about what Arthur felt for him. But Gwen wasn't anything like that sort of person.

"We could wait." She said gently. "Wait a week or so. D'you know when he's leaving New York? We could wait until he's gone. So you can be sure."

"No." Merlin said, after a tempted pause. "No, let's - let's just go."

She nodded, patting his hand. "If you're sure."

"I'm certain." He said, positively, but he couldn't hide the slight tremor in his voice.

"Think about home." Gwen said, still in that quiet, gentle voice. "You'll see your Mum again. And Will."

"You're coming to Ealdor with me, right?" Merlin pressed. "I mean, there's no one you want to see in London, is there?"

"No." She stood, smiling down at him. "No, there's nothing waiting for me there. Not after Dad." She turned away, grabbing a bag of her own. "But it will be good to be home."

 

"I've missed the accent." Merlin admitted guilty, and Gwen laughed.

"Mmm. And in three years, I've never had a cold drink here without ice in it. Which is nice, you know, but sometimes I want a drink where I _don't _have to worry about choking on an ice cube. Or I want to be _asked _about ice, like they do in cafes back home."

"English sausages again." Merlin agreed, starting to get into it.

"Sandwiches you can eat without straining to get your mouth round them."

"Scones, the way they should be." He grinned.

"Bovril!"

"We're horrible." Merlin said rather guiltily. "I mean, it hasn't been so bad here, has it?"

"Merlin." Gwen said firmly. "There've been some good times, yeah, but what about the time we missed the rent and you got beaten to a pulp for it? Or that time with the hold-up at my shop? Or when that guy spiked your drink? Or-"

"OK!" He agreed, quickly. Gwen was quite capable of going into all of the worst memories they had made here. "Just bloody pack, would you?"

**

With the details of the deal finalised - and without his right-hand lawyer - Arthur was only finally able to leave the hotel on the Sunday, and he'd managed not to think about Merlin at all. Or, only a very little, anyway. And hardly ever of his own volition, really. It wasn't his fault that everything in the suit reminded him of the man, from the balcony to the bloody grand piano. Something told him that he wouldn't be staying here again.

"Your account, Mr. Pendragon." Gaius said, with aplomb, handing to him in the leather booklet. "It must be difficult to leave New York, sir, after such a profitable time here."

Arthur gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean?" He asked, sharply.

"Word had it you've come to a very lucrative agreement with Unicorn Shipping." he said, blandly. "All of us here congratulate you. Mutually fulfilling relationships are so hard to find."

"Yes, of course. Thank you." He said rather dully.

"Gawain will drive you to the airport, sir. Your plane is on time."

"Thank you, Gaius."

"You know, sir..." He said idly, "Gawain also drove Mr. Emrys home yesterday morning."

For a long moment, Arthur stared at him. He couldn't. Of course he couldn't. But still.... "Thank you, Gaius." He repeated, absently, turning away.

"I hope you have a pleasant trip home, sir."

**

The ride through New York to Merlin's hideous, peeling apartment block was fairly short, but still suitably depressing. Arthur didn't like to think of Merlin living somewhere so dilapidated, and, as he mounted the stairs, was torn between hoping that Merlin had gone home so he wasn't living somewhere like this anymore, and that he was still here so Arthur could sweep him off his feet.

He knocked on the door of Merlin's flat, waiting for a reply - but nothing happened. Knocking again, louder, only served to bring one of the neighbours out to him, and she eyed him, suspiciously. "What d'you want?" She snapped.

"I'm looking for Merlin Emrys - or his flatmate." He said politely. "Do you know where they are?"

The besom refused to be mollified by his manners. "Did a bunk, didn't he? Last night." She said maliciously. "Mr. High-and-Might English and his girlfriend. No better than they ought to be, either of them - the types he used to bring home! Different man every night, filthy little slut," Arthur clenched his fists, "And her out all night, every night..."

"Do you know where they've gone?" He asked, hoping that, at least, Merlin was going to be safe back in England by the end of the day.

"Probably back to their precious homeland." She sneered. "As if I care."

"When did they go?"

"Yesterday afternoon." She eyed him, suddenly interested. "Why? They messed up in something?"

"I have some news which - might have interested Mr. Emrys." Arthur extemporised. Knowing exactly what the woman was thinking - 'interesting news' almost always meant inheritances in novels - he left her there before she could get a chance to ask any of her questions.

**

He drove to the airport in silence, and only gave Gawain the most absent of thanks when they arrived, though he made up for his distraction by a more generous tip than he might otherwise have given. For once, the relative slowness of the check-in, even in first class, and the plane itself didn't bother him; he spent the whole time trying to work out what he should do about Merlin.

Maybe these ridiculous, sentimental feelings would be dimmed when he was back in England, surrounded by his own things and distracted by his business.

Yes. Everything would go back to normal when he was home.

**

Merlin and Gwen had caught the last plane out of New York that the airline was running, and had spent the entire trip in a luxury which Gwen, at least, had never experienced, and which Merlin still appreciated whole-heartedly, after three long years of scraping and making-do. The lounge was comfortable, the free tea and coffee and biscuits were very appreciated, and the feeling of finally going home gave them both an elation they couldn't quite suppress.

During the wait, and on the plane over - helped by the complimentary champagne they were given, and fully enjoying the delicious meal they were served before 'bed' - Gwen pumped Merlin about his time with Arthur, giving all the right reactions.

"He sounds like a sweetheart." She pronounced, finally, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, no." He said, firmly. "Anything but. He's an arrogant bastard and a bit of a prat. But," he softened a little. "He can also be a little bit wonderful, too."

For a moment, Gwen was silent, a rather wistful look on her face, then she smacked his arm with a grin. "Sap." She taunted. "So, what was it like, eating in the Empire State building?"

Yawning horribly, the climbed on the Gatwick Express to London, then headed across to King's Cross, and from there, climbed on the slowest train in the world to Ealdor. Keeping their eyes open was incredibly difficult - their bodies were still telling them that it was two in the morning, after all - they nearly missed the station, and tumbled out just as the train was getting ready to leave again, pulling their suitcases after them. For a moment, they stood, panting and laughing on the empty platform, deserted except for them and a rather disgruntled train guard - then headed for the exit.

The one taxi waiting in the rank was a very dilapidated old Ford Focus, which creaked alarmingly going up hills, and was driven by a rather batty, white-haired old man who Merlin remembered from his childhood - but who, thankfully, didn't remember him. So close to home, it seemed to take forever for the taxi to get to the cottage on the outskirts where Hunith lived - and for the first time, it occurred to Merlin that his mother might have moved.

Paying the driver with a twenty, and asking him to wait, he got out, and headed up to the door, pausing before knocking.

"One minute!" Definitely a woman's voice, and Merlin's heart caught in his throat. "Sorry, I was just in the middle of-" Hunith stopped dead in the middle of her sentence.

"Hi, Mum." He managed, painfully. "Nice to see you again."

Hunith's hand hovered in front of her mouth, her eyes huge and shocked, before reaching, trembling, for Merlin's face.

"Merlin?" She whispered.

"Yeah." His voice, very soft, broke over the word.

Tears starting in her eyes, she reached up and shook him, hard. "You _stupid _boy!" She cried, "Three years, no phone call, no _letter _\- not even a _post-card_! I thought you'd _died_, you horrible, _horrible _boy!" She glanced at the taxi. "Is that that Kanen in there?" she demanded. "Because if it is, I'm going to give him a-"

"No, it's not. It's - a friend of mine." He said, almost crying himself. What was wrong with him? All these ridiculous tears. "She's called Gwen. We were - we shared a flat."

"Where _were _you?" Hunith wailed, hands still clutching his shoulders, more desperate than painful.

"New York." He said, "And I couldn't get back, the plane tickets were so... and then I-" he broke off. "I couldn't ring." He explained, shame-faced. "I couldn't, when - when I couldn't get home."

She pushed him away, reluctantly, one hand fisting in his shirt, patting his chest before letting go. "Go and get your friend." She said, wiping ineffectually at her eyes and sniffing before managing a smile. "It's so - _so _good to see you again, darling. But we are going to be having a _long _talk about things."

Gwen and Hunith got on like a house on fire, but Hunith's eyes kept straying to Merlin, silent and drawn at the table, drinking his mother's tea and one of her scones on a plate in front of him - "You look like a skeleton, don't they have _food _in New York?!" - and Gwen eventually excused herself, asking politely whether there was a bathroom anywhere, and whether Hunith would mind if she had a shower.

"Have a bath, dear, they're much more relaxing." Hunith suggested kindly. "And you must be shattered. I'll show you to the spare room."

By the time she got back downstairs ten minutes later, Gwen ensconced in the spare room, and the sound of water running for a bath, Merlin had shredded his scone into tiny pieces, expression tense.

"Oh, honestly, Merlin," Hunith scolded fondly, delighting in having someone to scold, "It may have been three years, but I thought I taught you better than to play with your food."

"I did some really bad stuff, Mum." He admitted, in a very low, rushed voice, "While I was away."

Hunith put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up. "Worse than playing with your food, then?" She teased, very gently. He gave a rather hysterical choke of laughter, and nodded. "Did you hurt anyone?" She asked, softly. He shook his head. "Kill anyone? Steal anything?"

"No." He shook his head quickly. "No, nothing like that."

"Well, then. It's nothing so very bad." She said reassuringly. "You're my only child, Merlin, I could forgive you anything."

"Not this." He said softly. He took a deep breath, "I – I was..." he couldn't say it, shaking his head helplessly at her. "I was-"

"Darling, is it really so important?" she asked gently.  
"I need you to know," he said, rather choked. "I turned tricks, Mum," he blurted out, "I tried everything I could, but then – and it was so _easy_..."

For a moment, Hunith stared at him, eyes wide and horrified, then she stood, and came towards him, bending down to wrap her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. "Oh, darling," she said, "Darling, it doesn't matter. It – it really doesn't matter. Is that why you couldn't come home?"

"It took three years of hating it for me to get my nerve up," he admitted, in a clogged sort of voice. "I couldn't look anyone in the eye here knowing what – what I'd done."

"It was Kanen's fault," she said reassuringly, "And we all knew it. More fool you for thinking anyone who knew you would care," but she said it so fondly it didn't sting at all, "I'm proud of you for managing," She added after a pause, "Not that I wouldn't have preferred you to ring me when things went wrong so all this could have been avoided, but – I'm so proud of you for managing everything for yourself. And whatever you did, don't you ever forget that."

"But what I did-"

"It kept you _alive_, Merlin," Hunith said painfully, "Do you think there's a parent worth their salt out there who wouldn't want that over almost anything?"

Merlin didn't reply, and for a moment they stood in silence, Hunith still hugging Merlin tightly to her, until a knock came at the door, breaking them apart. She smoothed down her shirt and he wiped his eyes ineffectually as the noise of the door opening came clearly down the hallway.

"Hunith!" someone called, an all too familiar voice that had Merlin sitting up, completely shocked. "The door was unlocked, so I came - in..." Will stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring, pole-axed, at Merlin. "Oh my God." He managed. "What- what the _hell _are you doing here?!" He demanded, finally. "Where _were _you?!"

"Will..." Merlin murmured, anguished. "I-"

 

"Why don't you two go out?" Hunith suggested when Merlin didn't seem able to go any further. "Here, take a couple of scones - Will, make sure he _eats _them - and go for a walk. I'm sure you'll feel less awkward."

"Gwen-"

"I'll tell her where you've gone when she gets up again, and she's had a sandwich or something; she looks half-starved as well. Now, what would you like for supper? Is spaghetti and cheese still your favourite, or have you grown up a bit?"

Merlin managed a laugh. "Yeah, no, I... I'll eat anything you cook, Mum."

"Good boy." She said approvingly, with a wide smile. "Now, get on with the pair of you."

Pushed out into the back garden, with a scone each, they stared at each other for a long moment. "Woodlands?" Will suggested finally.

Merlin laughed again and sniffed. "I haven't even thought about Woodlands for so long."

"I haven't been there for years." Will assured him. There was an unfamiliar awkwardness between them, born of distance, and for a few minutes, they walked in silence, cutting through the break in the back hedge and into the wood just across the footpath. "So - where did you go?"

"New York."

"Wow," Will said, appreciatively, apparently easing Merlin into this conversation gently, "D'you go up the Empire State Building and all that?"

Something in Merlin twinged, "Not till last week."

"Well, it's still pretty amazing – you, in New York! So, what did you do?"

Merlin swallowed, "I – well, I was a hooker, Will." It was better to get it all out in the open immediately, Merlin was sure, like a ripping a plaster off all in one go; even if it did feel like the wound this plaster had been covering had hardly healed.

Will stopped and stared at him, "You're serious?"

Merlin chuckled, "Yeah."

"What, like – like Julia Roberts?"

"You do know that that was just in a _film_, right, Will?" Merlin asked mock-carefully, gratefully taking the out his friend had offered him.

"Whatever. I'm sure she'd be a total slut for me," he joked, but caught Merlin's wince, "Too soon?" he asked with surprising gentleness, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

The warm non-sexual contact reassured Merlin like nothing else could have done, and he smiled, nodding gratefully, "Yeah. A bit," he agreed, "But, er... give me a coupla weeks, yeah?"

"Two weeks," Will nodded, "And that's your lot." They wandered down the path, bickering back-and-forth like the always had, their time apart the elephant between them, until they reached the clearing where they had built their frankly-unstable tree fort as children, with the help of Will's dad before he died.

Once there, Will chucked Merlin one of the now-battered scones and fixed him with a glare. "So, the Empire State Building. Spill it, Emrys."

**

Arthur had been very, very wrong; nothing had got better when he was back home. He was more miserable than he ever remembered being, and everything reminded him of Merlin. Any art gallery had him wincing; he couldn't drive anywhere without being reminded of how shocked Merlin had been at his extensive use of private transport. In Merlin's absence, Arthur found himself taking the Tube, or fighting with the bus system, to appease someone he had sent away himself. Having to buy a new suit had him biting his lip, and he wasn't sure he'd ever look at pizza the same way, after eating it just twice with Merlin.

Just as things were getting ridiculous, he got his dry cleaning back, and with it came a clear plastic bag with a letter in it: _Arthur_, written on the envelope in that cramped handwriting, unfamiliar and yet instantly recognisable as Merlin's. Arthur's breath caught in his throat.

He berated himself for shaking as he opened the bag, and pulled the letter out, smoothing out the envelope in a business-like manner before finally opening it.

"_Dear Arthur, _

I feel like an idiot for taking so long to write this, I must have tried ten times to write it properly. I hope it reads OK now.  
There is no way I should say this, of course, but I didn't think you'd believe me if I said it to your face. It's hardly been a week, after all, and you were paying me to be nice to you; you were very clear that that was how you thought of our arrangement." Arthur thought of that stupid, insulting offer he'd made Merlin, and winced. He'd been so desperate to keep hold of him, he hadn't thought properly before making it, grasping helplessly at anything to make sure he didn't lose Merlin. And in the end, of course, he couldn't have done anything stupider; the harder he tried to hold on, the faster Merlin slipped through his fingers. "_Of course, I understand why you made that offer,_" Somehow, Arthur didn't think he did, "_It would have been very convenient for you_." He winced "_And I would have got to see you sometimes, when you were over. I know you think I'd start to annoy you if I was in London with you, if you saw me every day, and you're probably right. But that's what I want. Not to annoy you, of course, though sometimes..."_ Arthur chuckled unwillingly "_But to see you every day_." Arthur's heart gave a sudden wild thump. "_I know living with you this week hasn't been what it would be like normally, but I want to find out what it would be like. I want to know what you sound like when you sing in the shower, and to meet your friends, and support your difficult decisions and argue with you when you're wrong_." Another unwilling chuckle. "_And you are wrong sometimes, you know. Even after a week, I can see you don't like admitting that._

"I know this is never going to happen, I do. And I didn't want to tell you before, because you wouldn't have believed me. I'm just a hooker, you'd have thought I was just saying it. But I think I love you. I hope you'll have a great life.

Love,

Merlin."

For a long, long moment, Arthur stared down at the letter. He'd never really thought that Merlin could _actually _love him. People said the words, didn't they? All the time. He'd told almost all his previous girlfriends that he'd loved them, and for at least half of them, he'd been sure that he did, but he hadn't felt a fraction of what he felt for Merlin for any of them. And for Merlin not to say it to his face, not to say is at a moment when it would have gained him anything - when he'd disappeared out of Arthur's life - that meant something, didn't it?

Finally, he folded the letter carefully, and slipped it into a desk drawer. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled it out and read it again, before resolutely putting it away again. He had things to be doing.

He'd re-read it three times, with this strange, painful, joyful lump lodged in his chest, before ringing the only person he could think of to help him; Morgana.

She picked up on the fifth ring. "Arthur, have you any idea what time it is now?" She asked, sleepily.

He checked his watch. "I'm sorry," he said, distractedly. "Time difference. I forgot."

"Yes." She sighed. "Well, what is it, then?"

"Morgana..." He said, dragging the words out. "I, er... I think I'm in love, and I don't know what to do about it."

She sounded a little more awake when she replied. "Oh, Arthur."

 

"What do I do?" He asked, helplessly.

"Well, do they love you back?"

"He says he does."

"Do you think he might not?"

"Common sense says he's lying through his teeth." Arthur said, slowly. "He's got a lot to gain from being involved with me, and he's already gained a lot from being involved with me. But he waited until he wasn't involved with me anymore to tell me. He - he waited until he'd disappeared to tell me."

"Why does that make you feel better?" Morgana asked curiously.

"Well." he shrugged. "I means he just wanted me to _know_. He wasn't saying it. Doesn't it?"

"Arthur, there's only one way to find out." Morgana said, gently.

"It will hurt so much if I'm wrong." He said, softly.

"Trust me," She told him, quietly, "It will hurt a great deal more for a great deal longer if you never try."

"You can't know that."

"Oh, trust me, Arthur, I can. Find this guy and _try_, for heaven's sake. Now, get off the phone, I have better things to be doing than acting as your relationship counsellor."

"Oh, god." A horrible thought struck him. "I didn't interrupt anything - important, did I?"

"Yes, you did." She said, firmly, and he winced. "My sleep. Go away, Arthur, and ring at a more reasonable hour."

"Thanks, Morgana."

"Ring me at three in the morning again and you will not enjoy the consequences." Her voice softened. "Goodbye, Arthur. Good luck."

**

The first thing Arthur did after hanging up was type 'Merlin Emrys' into Google, and was actually rather surprised when he got a whole plethora of results, from newspaper reports to missing children websites; Merlin had been over eighteen when he'd gone missing with Kanen – just – but there were always websites for worried parents to search on, and it seemed that Merlin's mother was one of the more computer literate parents of the age.

Obviously, nowhere gave a specific address, but the name Ealdor appeared everywhere, and Arthur jotted it down before reaching for his A to Z.

**

He had briefly contemplated taking the train to Ealdor, and then decided against it, heading down instead in the only car he could actually drive, an automatic mini. Ealdor was surprisingly easy to find, and when he did find it, it looked like something out of a fairy tale, all rose-covered cottages, narrow streets and village stores. After looking around hopelessly for a few minutes, as if hoping Merlin would magically appear, he stopped, and asked where Merlin Emrys lived.

"His mother's cottage is down there." Came the reply, and they gave him a long, hard look. "Can I take a message for you?"

"Merlin's just - a good friend. I was hoping to look him up after some time apart." Arthur lied easily.

"That so?"

He kept his face blank and polite. "Yes. Sorry, which of these houses did you say was his?"

**

Five minutes later - after a little more judicious persuasion - Arthur stopped outside Merlin's house, staring at the little cottage with something that felt uncomfortably like longing. It was nothing special; picture-book pretty, but not special, as such; but the whole mien of the house - from the beautifully looked-after flower beds to the old, scrupulously clean car and neat garage he could see through the open garage door - made it look _friendly _and home-like.

He hesitated in the car, suddenly unsure whether this was a good idea. He'd spent so long without putting himself out there emotionally, he was terrified of doing it and being rejected.

Finally, he did it all in a rush. He got out of the car and slammed the door, heading up the path and knocking before he could stop himself by thinking it over too much.

"I'll get it!" A girl's voice called out, and Arthur's heart sank. Who was this? He hadn't thought about getting past anyone else, he'd just assumed - stupidly, he thought viciously to himself - that Merlin would open the door himself. Did Merlin have sisters? Brothers?

A pretty dark girl opened the door, and he offered a quick smile. "Hi. I'm here to see Merlin, is he around anywhere?"

She gave him a dubious look. "I'll just go and see if he's in." With that, she shut the door in his face, and he heard feet running upstairs through the door.

He waited for about five minutes, getting increasingly bored, before he heard heavier feet coming towards the door. Hoping it was Merlin, he straightened with a smile; but the door opened to reveal a ruddy, round-faced young man, about Merlin's age, who gave him a glare and said, "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Arthur Pendragon." He kept the smile in place; he wanted Merlin's family - family? - to like him, after all.

"You bought the plane tickets for him and Gwen." The boy said, slowly.

"Yes." Hopefully that would soften him up a bit.

If anything, it just made the man even colder. "Well, if you're here for payment, you can leave right now." He said harshly. "Merlin doesn't do that anymore."

"I helped him get home so he wouldn't have to." Arthur said sincerely. "I just - I just want to see him."

"Well." He stood aside. "I suppose you'd better come in, then."

The little house was equally pretty inside as out, and Arthur was shown into the sitting room, a neat, unlived-in little room. Photos of Merlin as a child - sometimes with another little boy, more often alone - were scattered about the room, grinning from polished wood and silver frames behind porcelain figurines and candlesticks.

"Merlin will be down soon." The boy said ungraciously, and left him there.

Arthur sat uncomfortably on the sofa for another five minutes, listening to the sound of voices upstairs, and finally, the sound of someone coming down towards the sitting room. He stood automatically when Merlin appeared in the doorway.

"Arthur." He looked neither surprised nor happy. In fact, he looked rather miserable. "I - didn't expect to see you again."

"I know. But - I read your letter..." Merlin flushed, and Arthur looked down, unsure of how to go on. "I wanted to come and see you again."

"I'm sorry about that." Merlin said quietly. "About the letter, I mean."

For a moment, Arthur floundered, unsure of what to say in response to that. Finally, he said, very slowly, "Only be sorry... if it wasn't true."

Merlin looked up sharply. "It was." He said very firmly. "It was true."

"Then please," it was Arthur's turn to speak quietly, "Please don't be sorry for it."

"I didn't mean to - put you in an awkward situation."

"It wasn't awkward." Arthur said quickly. "Not at all. I just wish you'd told me earlier."

"Would you have believed me?" Merlin asked hopelessly.

"I don't know." Arthur's reply was honest, and Merlin's shoulders slumped a little more. "But I would have wanted to."

"Bu- I... what do you mean?"

"Do I really have to say it?" Arthur asked, pained.

"No." Merlin relented. "But I'd like you to."

"I - might, _possibly_...." he tailed off. "I want to help you find that fairy tale you wanted."

Merlin smiled at the reference, took a step forward, and then stopped. "Would you like to come into the kitchen?" He asked, "I'll do us tea."

"OK." He nodded, smiling. "Tea sounds like a wonderful idea."

Merlin smiled back, letting it erase some of the tiredness n his eyes, ease some of the worried tension around his mouth. "How much did you have to psyche yourself up to come here?" He asked, turning to lead the way to the kitchen, and Arthur laughed.

"Oh, you have no idea."

"If it's anything like how much I had to, to write that letter..." Merlin said, "I have some idea."

 

"I'm grateful you did. I could have lived the whole of the rest of my life trying to forget you."

Merlin stopped in the threshold of the kitchen and turned back to him. "That long?" He asked.

Arthur caught his eye and nodded. "That long. Longer."

Merlin stepped closer to him, but it was Arthur who pulled him into the hug. Still, Merlin hugged back tightly, eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, good." He whispered. "Good."

Arthur pulled back long enough to say, "I don't know whether it will work, whether I - I can deal with a partner, not an employee..." Because maybe that had been the problem all along, _him_, not Merlin, and if not, Arthur didn't think he'd ever admit it. He'd prefer to think that there was something wrong with him rather than have someone blame Merlin for anything.

"But you want to try as much as I do, right?"

Arthur nodded, hardly daring to speak. "Yeah." he agreed huskily. "Yeah, I do."

"Then let's just wait and see where it goes."

Arthur tried to think of something which he could say to express how he was feeling, but eventually gave up, leaning forward and pressing a fervent kiss to Merlin's lips. It was Merlin who looped an arm around Arthur's neck

If this was the rest of his life, he thought, he was probably one of the lucky ones.


End file.
